


Sheer Implausability

by AccidentalAvenger



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Don't Have to Know Sense8 Canon, I made them non-American/Canadian to fit in with the plot, Inspired By Sense8, It's more like sense9 cause I didn't feel like leaving anyone out, M/M, Some mentions of violence and drugs, description of death at the beginning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:44:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AccidentalAvenger/pseuds/AccidentalAvenger
Summary: The last thing Bitty needed was to form unexplainable, mental connections with eight strangers across the world. But that's what he got and it was both a blessing and a curse. The shady organisation dedicated to tracking people like him down was, however, definitely a curse. Luckily, he wouldn't be alone anymore.A Sense8 inspired AU where the Samwell Men's Hockey Team are a sensate cluster.





	1. New Beginnings

“Annie, you don't have to do this,” Mai pleaded. Annie gave a desperate laugh and shook her head. She clutched at the charred wood she sat on and stared down at the dark, tumultuous sea below her.

“It's best this way,” she muttered, too quiet to be heard above the howling of the wind but Mai heard her anyway, perched on a log just above Annie’s head. She shook her head violently, hair bouncing as she did, seemingly unaffected by the rain.

“This could kill you,” she insisted, “The mental strain alone could be too much and you'll fall!” She paused glancing down at the violent waves far below them and shuddered. “The fall won't kill you but in this weather? You won't be able to get out of the water, Annie, you'll drown! This will kill you!”

Annie gave a bitter laugh and shook her head, sodden curls swinging. She looked back at the bright lights of the seaside town flickering on shore, somehow seeming impossibly distant. Neon lights of another pier shone through the fog behind her. The wind whipped her white dress around her like a violent, uncontrollable sail. “Come on Mai, I'm not getting away from this pier alive.”  
“Annie please-” Mai began desperately but Annie quickly cut her off.  
“-No, I've accepted that,” she said quickly, “Mai, I'm on a decaying, burnt ruin in the middle of a stormy sea and the only people who know I'm here will kill me when they find me.” She looked down at the water below her and grimaced. “You need to accept that this is it for me.” 

Mai gave a strangled sob and turned away. Annie smiled sadly. “I'm so sorry Mai. And tell the others I'm sorry as well. I know this will hurt all of you.”  
“There's got to be another way,” Mai insisted, “The birth will definitely kill you - you might have a chance to get away, we could figure it out as a cluster!”  
“What? Like we did with Louis and Rabia?” Annie snapped but softened her tone when she saw Mai flinch, “Mai, I don't want to end up lobotomized like they did. If I'm going to die, I want to die knowing who I am - I want to die on my own terms. Not at the hand of some pyscho LAX Doctor.”

“But the birth might as well be suicide,” Mai argued stubbornly, “It just plays into what LAX wants - you need to keep living!”  
“I can't,” Annie cried out, desperate and broken, “There is no way out. Mai, you're standing where I'm standing and you know that you just don't want to admit it! Look around me! Look at where I'm standing! This isn't a situation I can walk away from, Mai, I'm sorry!” The waves crashed loudly around her and Mai sobbed quietly, the sound echoing in Annie’s head.

“Mai,” Annie said softly, “Birth is the best thing I can do right now. I can bring more people like us into the world. Yes, I might die but I might as well die creating a new cluster. They're going to take me down one way or another but I'm going to leave several new Sensates in this world. There's no better way to stick it to LAX, can't you see?”  
Mai nodded slowly, tears still streaming down her face. “I know what you mean. I just wish it wasn't you.”  
“So do I,” Annie admitted, not sure if it was tears or rain covering her face, “I wish I could have had longer. Tell the others I love them.”  
“I will do,” Mai promised quietly. 

A cold, blue light appeared to detach itself from the shore; a boat moving quickly across the water towards the burnt ruin. Annie and Mai stared at it in horror.  
“Oh god they're coming,” Mai said quietly, her voice choked at shaken. Annie let out a slight sob, shaking violently as she clutched at the broken structure.

“It has to be now,” she choked out, shivering and holding onto the wood for dear life. Her eyes were wide open even in the pelting rain. She stared out at the boat steadily nearing her her focuses slipped and she was staring into nothing. “God, Mai. I can see them all. Nine of them - they're ready to be awakened.”  
“Annie…” Mai began desperately but trailed off, her hands fisting in the light dress she wore. Annie shook her head and smiled widely.  
“They seem so young! I remember when we were like that. Scattered across the world, barely aware of how other people exist. Mai, this is wonderful. I wish you could see it.”

Mai covered her face, crying silently. Annie leant forwards slightly, oblivious to the boat approaching her - its shape now becoming clearer as it emerged through the fog. Rain poured down her face but she was grinning happily, verging on manic. 

“They've got a whole new world in front of them,” she remarked quietly before seizing up, her eyes going impossibly wide. A slight trail of blood ran from her nose, and Mai gave a slight cry, wincing in pain, her hands flying to her head. Her nose began to bleed as well, mirroring Annie’s but she ignored it. 

Annie was still for a moment, hanging off the charred wood, white dress flapping in the powerful wind. Then her hands slipped, fingers no longer to keep their grip on the wood and she fell. Her dress billowed around her, like some sickening parody of angel wings and her dark hair streamed out behind her. Mai clutched at her head, tearful and focused on Annie. As Annie hit the water she let out a pained scream that echoed through her mind and many others, before the world around her faded leaving her in a small, dry room. 

**New Orleans**

Bitty spotted her as soon as he stepped out of the club doorway. He had been talking with Tony, chatting easily as they left through the back door into the alley which always smelt of piss, but he trailed off as he saw the woman. Hands shoved deep into the pockets of his large coat, he stopped in his tracks and stared up in silent horror.

She seemed to be clutching at something on the building opposite him. Despite the dry, summer weather, she was soaked through and her hair and dress seemed to be blown about by a non-existent wind. She looked painfully precarious, clearly about to plunge into the alley below. Bitty felt panic rise, as he stared wide-eyed above him. 

“Bitty?” Tony asked, looking back at his friend, concern creeping into his voice, “What's wrong? Why did you stop?”  
“The woman,” Bitty said quietly, his mind struggling to form words, “Look up at the woman.”

“There's nothing there?” Tony said but his voice seemed distant as if it was a far-away recording playing. His words didn't register with Bitty as the woman looked down, staring directly back at him. She smiled widely, her expression full of relief as she stared at him, and even far-away, Bitty could clearly see her mouth moving, saying something unheard to an invisible someone.

Then she froze, eyes growing wide and stiff. Her hands slipped and she fell, tumbling towards where he and Tony stood. Bitty let out a panicked cry and stepped back, not hearing Tony’s worried questions. Before the woman reached the ground he heard a faint pop and his legs gave out. The world around him faded to black and he fell to the alley floor, unconscious.

**Bangalore/Providence**

Jack stumbled backwards and fell heavily to the floor as he saw the woman in white flash past his window. He couldn't help but flinch away and squeeze his eyes shut, waiting for the hard crack as she inevitably hit the ground best it never came. Slowly, he opened his eyes, feeling his panic fade into confusion as the world outside his apartment stayed quiet and mundane. Stomach filled with the bitter feeling of unrealised apprehension, he stared up at his window, frowning deeply. 

She had fallen - he had seen her tangle of dark hair and the billowing white dress flash past his open window; she had been moving terrifyingly fast yet Jack had seen every detail. Her eyes had been wide open, brown and steely as they briefly made eye contact. And then she had been gone, disappearing below him at an unsurvivable speed. But then there had only been silence, and Jack staring out of his window, wide-eyed and still clutching his running shoes.

“Holy fuck,” came a voice behind him. Jack whipped his head round at the sound of his voice to see the man standing behind him. The stranger in his apartment was staring out of the window with a horrified expression that mirrored Jack’s yet everything about him was unfamiliar. Dressed in a pressed grey suit, with his tie hanging loosely around his neck and clutching a styrofoam cup of coffee, the stranger stepped towards and peered out of the window with horrified fascination. He ran his free hand through his long brown hair as he gazed, seeming almost comically out of place in Jack’s apartment. 

He glanced down at Jack, green eyes wide with shock over his rather impressive moustache.  
“You saw that, right? That woman? Holy shit, what the hell?!” He exclaimed, looking back out of the window and tilting forward in an attempt to see the ground. Jack nodded mutely, still confused yet dimly noting that the man had an unusual accent - Australian, maybe.

The guy turned to Jack and stepped towards him, looking shaken. He held out a hand, tanned and strangely calloused for someone in a suit which screamed office worker. Jack took the hand silently, too overwhelmed for his mind to form words to ask the many questions he had. His mind struggled to process all the information being flung at it, feeling slow and disconnected, and he felt his anxiety bubbling up and building pressure within him. Even beyond that all, there was the constant pounding of a headache building and a dizzy feeling which made him miss a step as the stranger helped pull him to his feet. 

The man caught him with his free arm and gave a shaky smile.  
“You alright man?” he asked, still frowning slightly as he struggled to sound light-hearted, “I - Do ya think we should check that out downstairs?”  
Jack took a deep breath and glanced back towards his apartment window. He pushed the memory of tumbling white cloth to the side as he looked back towards the stranger and firmly asked, “Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my apartment?” 

The guy’s frown deepened and opened his mouth to reply but closed it again, looking around pointedly and raising an eyebrow.  
“Your apartment? Dude, what are you on about?”

Jack opened his mouth to reply as he glanced in the direction the stranger was looking but with a whirling, dizzying rush his vision shifted and he found himself in an unfamiliar grey corridor, bright sunlight filtering through the dusty windows. His senses were battered with information; the busy rush and chatter of a working office and the background noise of traffic surrounding him, the strong smell of coffee and a sharp lemony scent filling the air, the bright, direct sun of midday replacing the grey early morning light of Providence and the rattling hum of AC that did nothing to ease the stifling heat that clung to his skin.

Jack opened his mouth, a collection of questions and confusion about to slip out as panic filled his chest, ready to force its way up his throat and choke him. All he could stutter out was, “Why - why is it so hot?”

The stranger gave Jack a tight, sympathetic smile and stepped closer, taking his arm as if to lead him away. “The heat can be pretty disorientating at first, huh?” he said conversationally, “You might have heatstroke, - you should get that checked out pretty quick, brah. Moving into hot weather can be shit for a lot of people lot of people but like most overwhelming stuff about India, you'll get to love it pretty quick. C’mon - you should go sit down.”

Jack stared at the man, his brain slowly processing all the information through the fog of panic that clouded his mind. He shook his head hesitantly.  
“What are you talking about?” he asked unsteadily, “I- I'm not in India. I'm in Providence.”  
The stranger looked at him blankly. “Dude, what are you talking about?”

Jack opened his mouth to reply, unsure how to, especially with confused anxiety rising and steadily choking him, but a voice cut him off.  
“Mr Knight!” an accented voice shouted from down the corridor, breaking into the bubble that Jack and the stranger seemed to inhabit. Sharply, they both turned to face the voice but Jack found himself staring at his kitchen, alone in his familiar apartment. 

The cold air pricked his skin which was unusually warm as if he had been lying in the sun, and the lingering smell of coffee filled the air. Jack shook himself, his anxiety retreating slightly in the familiar setting although his mind still bubbled with confused questions and a disorientating dizzy feeling. He looked around him slowly, drinking in the details of his home that were identical to what they had been just before he saw the woman fall. 

Remembering the woman falling made Jack shiver with suppressed horror, forgotten in the confusion of what he had just experienced. With trepidation he walked hesitantly over to his open window and peered out. With sick anticipation, he looked directly down and his gaze was met with nothing. The path below him seemed was mundanely empty in the watery five o’clock light. All around him, the world slept on peacefully, oblivious to everything Jack had just experienced. The path below him was clear and the world was unaffected, and Jack was at all surprised. 

 

**Berlin/Lagos/Ho Chi Min**

“Fuck!” Adam said loudly and began sprinting towards where the woman must have landed. She was hidden behind low walls and it was eerily silent as he approached. He rushed forwards, squinting through the darkness and rushed straight into a figure running in the same direction. They both reeled backwards, trying to catch their balance.

“Shit, man,” Adam said quickly, “I'm sorry! Didn't see you there at all. You alright?”  
“I'm fine, dude,” the guy replied, “You?”  
“Yeah, I'm good. I just-” he paused and looked back towards the paved area where the woman had fallen, “You saw her, right? What the hell do we do?”  
“I'm a Doctor - I thought I could maybe help,” the man explained, “I can see if she is- if she's-” 

He trailed off, unwilling to state what they both knew was a likely possibility. Slowly, Adam’s eyes adjusted to the light and he could make out the other man as more than a figure. He had dark skin and strong, chiselled features and stood slightly shorter than Adam. A worn baseball cap sat backwards on his head but Adam couldn't make out any more details.Adam nodded, wordlessly as he looked back towards the spot where the woman had landed. Strangely in sync, the two began to slowly make their way over to the square.

Adam rounded the wall first, phone in hand - prepared to call for an ambulance. He stopped in his tracks, staring at the empty spot where the woman was supposed to be lying. He stared around the dimly lit, empty square, confusion and a faint feeling of dread growing in his stomach. He heard a sharp breath as his companion took in the sight.

“What the hell?” breathed the man, hovering just behind him and staring at the square in front of them with blank confusion.  
“What the hell,” Adam agreed, unmoving and unsure what to do.  
“But- I don't get it!” The man exclaimed stepping forwards, looking strained, “You saw it, right? The woman in white, falling? She landed here! Where is she?” 

His voice grew increasingly panicked as he spoke and he gestured widely at the square which was completely unmarked as if nothing had happened there.  
“You think-” Adam began cautiously, stopping but deciding to continue, “You think it could be a ghost? I mean, there's been a whole lot of bad history around here-”  
“No,” the guy cut him off sharply, “Nope. It's gotta be some kind of optical illusion. He gestured at the buildings around them, sounding frantic, “Ghosts are just superstition, they aren't real!” 

Adam caught the guys flailing arm, turning away from the square to look at the stranger. “Dude, it's okay,” he said soothingly, “Not ghosts. Probably just an optical illusion - like you said. You just need to calm down; you're freaking out. Hey, what's your name?”  
The guy’s panic subsided slightly and his shoulder dropped. “I'm Justin. Sorry - I'm just creeped out by this all and y’know, it's gone so cold suddenly. I don't even want to consider creepy supernatural shit. I get enough of that at home.” 

Adam frowned slightly, the guy's statement making him aware of the temperature which was unusually warm for a Berlin evening.  
“Okay,” he said hesitantly, wondering if he should make Justin sit down, “I'm Adam. We should figure out what's going on.” He paused, thinking before angrily continuing, “If this is some kind of trick, it's seriously fucked up.”  
Justin scowled, “Yeah, that's some messed up shit to do to someone.”

“Will you shut up?” 

Both men spun around to see a girl standing in the middle of the square which had been eerily empty only moments before. Her short, dark hair was pushed back from her face by a pen behind her ear and she held a glowing cigarette in her hand. Despite being almost a foot shorter the pair, she glared up defiantly at them. Adam dropped Justin’s arm and frowned at the girl. 

“Who are you?” Justin asked but she ignored him, crossing her arms and looking stubbornly up at them.  
“Look, if I'm going to hallucinate, I'd like it if my hallucinations were at least quiet,” she told them. 

“We're not hallucinations!” Adam said, feeling strangely offended. He looked over at Justin to reaffirm this but found him gone. He whipped his head back to look at the girl but she had disappeared as well, leaving the square as empty as it had been moments before. Adam took a step back, suddenly, dizzying lay alone among the grey buildings in a dark square. 

**Cambridge/Los Angeles**

Derek climbed to his feet in shocked silence as he watched the woman tumble into the dark water of the canal. Her long dark hair flew out behind her and the white skirt she wore billowed around her like ineffective wings, standing out against the night sky. He stepped forwards, flinching slightly as she hit the water with a loud crack. It sounded violent - yes, she had hit the water, but at the speed she had fallen - and it wasn't like the canals were all that deep. Derek felt dread rising in his throat as he stepped closer to the canal.

He squinted into the darkness, trying to see where she had fallen from. Briefly, Derek caught a glimpse of a decaying frame, like scaffolding, - gruesomely out of place amongst the stone buildings - stretching above him but it blurred into the darkness, becoming invisible, as he blinked. He looked down at the canal water at his feet, expecting to see a white dress floating, but it seemed eerily calm - a still, black pool which drew him forwards. 

He shuddered as he dropped to his knees peering closer, his stomach churning with horror and the sensation of something strongly amiss. A voice came suddenly from behind him, making him flinch and fall to his hands.  
“I - what the hell?” it said, the American accent standing out as strongly as the horrified panic. Derek stared up at the man above him who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “You saw that, right? You saw the woman fall in the sea?” 

Shakily, Derek climbed to his feet, brushing his hands off on his trousers as he peered into the darkness at the stranger in front of him. The man’s pale skin seemed to glow in the faint light from distant buildings and he stood tall, tense and all sharp angles.  
“Yeah, I saw her,” Derek agreed, his voice hoarse. He glanced back at the canal and raised an eyebrow before commenting, “Hardly the sea, though.”

The guy scoffed as he pulled out his phone. The blue light eerily illuminated his pale, freckled skin and hair - red, Derek noted distantly. His expression was strained, brow furrowed and golden eyes anxious. 

“Sure. Fine, whatever you say,” he snapped, giving Derek a strange look. “I'm gonna call 911.”  
“It's 999 here,” Derek corrected quickly as the guy began typing in numbers. The guy looked back at him, forehead furrowed.  
“No. It's 911,” he countered firmly. Derek shook his head and raised his eyebrows.  
“Not in the UK. It's 999.” The guy stared at him with angry confusion.  
“A woman is probably dying and you-” the guy scoffed and shook his head before glaring at Derek. “Look, I don't care what it is in the UK! We’re in California so I'm gonna and call the number to get help here, okay?”

Derek stared at the man in front of him blankly.  
“No, we’re not. We're in England,” he insisted. The guy gave a panicked laugh.  
“What the hell? Are you high?” he asked, clutching his phone angrily, “That would explain so much! What did you-”  
“-I'm not high!” Derek cut in angrily. “I'm in Cambridge! In the UK!” He glanced up at the familiar and dimly lit buildings on the hill above him. “My college is older than the USA!”

Derek looked back at where the stranger was standing, gesturing at the buildings on the hill, only to find himself alone. He dropped his arm looked around but he was alone on the lawn, the only noise being the faint gurgle of the canal. Feeling disorientated he approached the canal slowly, stumbling slightly. 

As he got close to the waters edge Derek was overwhelmed by a wave of sensation. A gust of warm wind rushed past, bringing the strong smell of the sea - salt water and drying seaweed. The sound of waves was suddenly loud and obvious and there was the sound of drunken laughter, carried by the wind. The grass under his feet suddenly felt different, moving easily under his feet. Derek stumbled backwards and fell heavily on his hands. Under his fingers he felt the grainy consistency of sand which cascaded off his palm as he lifted his hands. 

And then as suddenly as the feelings had come, they were gone. Derek was left in silence, the faint smell of food emanating from dining hall above him and the ground beneath him was covered in thick grass. He shook himself and made his way to the canal’s edge. Derek peered cautiously over the edge, into the dark water, but it was calm and still, not even a ripple. It was as flat as if nothing had happened to disturb it.

**Hong Kong**

Bitty opened his eyes to find himself standing by the sea. He frowned and squinted against the bright sunlight which had suddenly appeared despite it being the Middle of the night. Covering his eyes he realised, with a growing sense of confusion and apprehension, that the light was so blinding as it was reflecting off a cluster of tall skyscrapers just across the stretch of water, reaching into the sky - almost seemingly impossibly high. 

As he took in the sight of the city before, both unfamiliar yet recognisable, his other senses began to register changes from New Orleans. The air was painfully humid, clinging to him like damp hands grabbing onto his clothes, his hair, his limbs. The air was filled with the smell of the sea but soured by the city smells of car exhaust and thousands of people living in close quarters. It was a smell that even after months of living in New Orleans, Bitty still wasn't used to. 

As a green and white ferry passed by in the water, Bitty’s thoughts and memories began slowly trickling back to him. Frowning slightly, he remembered the club and he remembered leaving with Tony but whatever had happened afterwards - whatever had caused him to end up in this unfamiliar, shiny city - seemed fuzzy. 

As he grimaced, trying to piece together the last few minutes as he clutched a metal handrail and stared out across the water to the towering skyscrapers, a quiet, shocked voice came from behind him.

“Did you see the woman falling, too?” 

Suddenly the memories of the woman in white came rushing back to him and Bitty gripped the metal handrail as his legs threatened to give out and his hands shook where they clutched at the metal handrail.  
“I - Yes, I- I saw her,” he admitted, his head spinning.  
“Oh phew!” the voice said and Bitty felt someone move to stand beside him. He glanced towards them and saw a young, Asian man with dark hair and braces and wearing a hoodie which was completely inappropriate for the level of heat. A crimson streak ran down from his nose to his upper lip. 

“Your nose is bleeding,” Bitty distantly told the stranger whose hand flew up to his nose, smearing the blood.  
“Oh!” he exclaimed, staring at the red on his fingers, “That's weird! I've never had a nosebleed before!’  
“Tilt your head forwards,” Bitty instructed, stepping forwards as his dizziness faded and was replaced by concern, “Pinch the bridge of your nose, it stops the blood. Do you have any tissue?”

“Uh - yeah, I think so,” the man said, following Bitty’s instructions and rifling in his pocket. He pulled at a crumpled napkin and pressed it to his nose.  
“You're going to need more than that in a minute,” Bitty warned him, “But it will last for a couple of minutes if you keep your head back.”  
“Thanks,” the man said, with a surprisingly genuine smile, “But yeah, you saw the woman?” With trepidation, Bitty nodded slowly. The man’s eyes lit up.

“I'm so glad you saw it too! You think she was diving or something? I couldn't see where she came from! Cait didn't see it,” the voice enthusiastically explained, “I thought I was going mad for a minute there!”  
“I think I am,” Bitty muttered. His companion frowned at Bitty, concern clear in his expression. 

“Are you alright? Do you need to sit down?” he asked, tripping over his words as he looked worriedly at Bitty, words still muffled by the tissue. “You might have heat stroke - it's pretty common this time of year.”  
“I- I don't know where I am,” Bitty admitted shakily and his companion’s eyes lit up.  
“Did you get off the wrong MTR stop? It happened to Cait all the time when she first moved here. The MTR is super confusing sometimes. You're on Kowloon side, you're really close to East Tsim Sha Tsui, do you want help getting there?”

Bitty couldn't help but smile at the friendly enthusiasm the man seemed to exude but he had to shake his head.  
“I'm afraid that means nothing to me,” he confessed, struggling to explain, and looked around with amazed and scared wonder, “I- I saw the woman fall and I was suddenly here. But I don't know where here is.” 

His companion looked at him in confusion for a second before asking, “You saw the woman fall somewhere else but now you're here?”  
Bitty nodded, feeling a flood of relief. “New Orleans,” he said quietly. The guy gave a strained smile.  
“I guess Hong Kong must be pretty disorientating then? It is to most American expats, but at least they're expecting to end up here.”  
“This is Hong Kong?” Bitty asked, his shock increasing as the stranger nodded in confirmation. 

Bitty hesitated for a moment before cautiously asking, “And you believe me? That I was in New Orleans but now I'm here?”  
His companion shrugged. “I don't see why I shouldn't. You haven't made me not believe you and there's plenty of weird stuff out there.” He paused for a moment before continuing, “You think it had something to do with the woman? I mean, I didn't understand how Cait didn't see her! If there's something big and weird going on it would explain that!”  
“I don't know,” Bitty admitted, his distress rising, “I just don't understand it all! I saw a woman dying and now I'm here and I don't get it! I just want to be back home right now!”

As if his words had flipped a switch, Hong Kong slowly seemed to melt away around him, light dimming and sounds slowly diminishing. The last thing he saw before the world once again faded into darkness was the worried face of the man in front of him, mouth open about to speak.

**Cambridge**

Derek had sat quietly for a long time, trying to take it what had just happened to him. It was only as the faint morning sun began to shine upon the sandstone buildings behind him, casting watery shadows across the lawn, that he began to stir. Gathering up his notebooks he stared up at the slowly lightening sky, dark clouds hovering at the edges of his vision. Even as he began to walk back towards college, a few heavy raindrops fell from the sky and hit the path beside him. He felt a faint relief at the fact he had no lectures as he ducked under the cover of the college buildings. It looked to be a stormy day, Derek reflected, a day when the sound of rain would permeate everything. 

**New Orleans**

It had taken Bitty a long time to convince his friends that he was healthy enough to leave the clinic. Even when the Doctor Hall had explained that he was well enough to go, Tony and Whiskey had been hesitant about leaving. They had insisted that Bitty eat almost a whole meal, worried about his half-hearted excuse of low blood sugar.

Bitty couldn't blame them. He would be just as bad - probably worse - if either of them had started talking strangely and then fainted, staying unconscious for nearly half an hour. But Doctor Hall had reassured him that it seemed like nothing serious. 

In his attempts to convince his friends, Bitty had almost convinced himself that the things he had seen were just strange dreams conjured up by his tired mind but he still felt strangely shaken, far worse than he would experience from just fainting. Deep down, he knew that the feeling of a sea breeze on his skin, the things he had seen and the vividness and brightness of it all went far beyond just dreams. 

He shook himself, pushing the anxious thoughts whirling round his head to the back of his mind. Sighing slightly, he turned to Tony and gave him a bright smile in response to the concerned look he received. 

“Are you sure you're okay? You don't need to sit down or anything? Do you want more to eat?” Tony asked in quick succession.  
“I'm fine,” Bitty insisted brightly as they approached the clinic door. Hearing the sound of pouring rain just outside, he quickly added, “Do you two have an umbrella? It sounds like we’re going to get soaked on the way to the car!”

Whiskey and Tony shared a worried glance. After a tense moment in which Bitty’s eyes flicked between the pair, trying to figure out what he’d said wrong. Finally, Whiskey spoke cautiously, “Uh, Bits - it's sunny outside. We don't need one.” 

Bitty stared at his friend for a moment, his bright smile frozen on his face. The sound of rain slamming onto the roof tiles continued, dramatically loud and all too obvious.  
“Oh, my bad,” he said tensely, trying to force himself to sound casual as he glanced out of the window, “Ha, I thought the weather forecast today was rainy.”  
“No, it's not,” Whiskey told him, worry creeping into his voice, “It's completely dry. Uh, you're looking kind of pale.”

“Do you need to sit down?” Tony cut in, “Are you sure you're alright? We can wait if you want to talk to Doctor Hall some more?”  
“I'm fine!” Bitty lied quickly, giving them a cheerful grin, “Just got an idea into my head. No big deal, we can go. Don't worry!”

Reluctantly, the pair nodded and turned towards the door. Bitty walked into the hot air and the bright sun of a New Orlean’s summer. He forced a smile as he made his way to the car, trying desperately to ignore the crashing of invisible rain that seemed to be falling all around him.


	2. Chapter 2

**New Orleans**

It became harder for Bitty to ignore the strange things going around him - going on with him.

It had faded slightly after the fainting incident and for a few days, Bitty had been able to pretend that all was well, that it had been a one-off experience. Then the migraines had started, bringing with them a sinking feeling deep in his gut. He'd avoided thinking about them for several days, refusing to tell Tony or Whiskey anything, until the dizzy spells had begun. It had become harder to hide behind stories of tiredness and work to do when Bitty would suddenly sway and clutch at the counter in a desperate attempt to stay upright. 

Their concern was obvious, following Bitty about the flat like a black dog. They always seemed to be hovering, ready to jump up and bring him a glass of water at any moment he felt even slightly worse than normal. It had just gotten worse as strange incidents began to increase in frequency. He began to flinch at the sound of loud noises which had no apparent cause and which no one else could hear. Flashes of colours, breezes or the feeling of rain against his skin appeared from nowhere and he couldn't hide his reactions from his friends. 

A feeling of anxiety and worry had begun to permeate every aspect of his life. Bitty constantly felt tense, waiting for the next unexplained happening and pushing away any questions with answers which held too dire consequences. He could barely remember the last time he had talked with Whiskey or Tony without recovering concerned, piercing glances or anxious questioning. Tony had even dared to ask if he should really be baking, resulting in a long argument and a temporary ban from the kitchen for both his roommates. It hadn't lasted long but the implication that his friends no longer trusted him to look after his own health hung constantly in the air. 

It had only gotten stranger. One particularly bad dizzy spell had resulted in him spilling a glass of water, receiving panicked questions from Whiskey. Dodging the interrogation, Bitty made his way to their flat’s small bathroom. In the dim afternoon light drifting through the window, he splashed cold water on his face in an attempt to calm the flush he could feel colouring his face. With a sigh, he leant on the battered plastic counter and looked at himself in the mirror only to see a completely different face staring back at him.

The girl stared back at him, mirroring the shocked expression he no doubt wore. Her short, dark hair fell across her forehead in damp tangles. She wore a black tank top, red lipstick - partially smudged by the makeup wipe she held - and multiple silver earrings. She was pretty, in a sharp, fierce way and looked nothing like Bitty. 

She raised her hand and reached towards him, expression curious and confused. Bitty reeled back and shrieked loudly as he tripped over the bath mat and tumbled to the floor. 

He stared up in horror at the mirror as Whiskey burst into the bathroom and dropped to his knees beside Bitty.  
“Shit, did you pass out? Are you alright? What happened?” he asked, sounding panicked.  
“Tôi không biết - tôi thấy - Tôi không biết những gì đã xảy ra,” Bitty said, trembling slightly. 

Whiskey stared at him, horror growing on his face. “What the hell did you just say? You're not making any sense! What language is that supposed to be?”  
Bitty stared back at his friend, frozen in confusion, the shock shaking him out of the daze he had been in since seeing the girl in the mirror. As Whiskey reached out towards him, he batted his friend's hands away. 

“No! I'm fine. I don't need help, I just fell,” he lied. Whiskey raised an eyebrow and scoffed.  
“You just started speaking in tongues, you're not alright,” he said flatly, “Bitty - I know you don't want to, but I think you should go to back to Doctor Hall. You haven't been yourself recently and it's getting worse.”  
Bitty glared at him and Whiskey’s face fell. “Please, Bits. We're worried about you.”  
Bitty’s expression softened and his shoulders fell. “Fine,” he allowed after a long moment's silence. “I’ll go talk to Doctor Hall tomorrow. I'm fine but if you really want me to, I'll go.” 

Whiskey’s voice was flooded with relief when he replied. “Thank you. Look, whatever's going on we’ll figure it out. Tony and I are your friends, we’re with you whatever.”  
“Thanks,” Bitty choked, his throat closing up and his stomach filled with ominous dread. 

**Los Angeles/Cambridge**

“Hey,” Derek repeated, slightly louder. The red haired man’s head snapped up and he glared quickly at Derek before looking back to his laptop.  
“Are you ignoring me?” Derek accused, feeling frustrated.  He slid closer to the other man and nudged him gently. The man flinched away and gave Derek an evil look. 

“What do you think?” he hissed angrily, refusing to look directly at Derek.  
“Why?” Derek asked, feeling surprisingly hurt although his annoyance was quickly rising. The man rolled his eyes, knuckles turning white as he gripped as his laptop.  
“Look, I might be hallucinating but that doesn't mean I have to pay any attention to you,” he said harshly. Derek let out a quiet, surprised laugh. 

“Hallucinating? I'm real, dude,” he told the man who was glaring down at his laptop.  
“No, you aren't,” he insisted, “You’re in my head.”  
Derek laughed again as the man sounded more like he was trying to convince himself before anyone else. “No. I'm in Cambridge.”  
“That's what you said last time,” the man told through gritted teeth, glancing around him as if he was being watched, “And that wasn't real.” 

“It was for me,” Derek said, “I don't understand what's happening, but it's more than just hallucinations.”  
“Oh, really?” the man said sarcastically, turning decisively back to his laptop.  
“Yeah. Something big is happening here,” Derek told him, “I walked out of the door the other day and I was on a ferry in Hong Kong harbour. It's not just hallucinations, it was like I was there.” 

“Can you just go away?” the man snapped, slamming his laptop shut and making Derek jump, “I don't care! Just fuck off!”  
Derek raised his eyebrows. “Can't do that, you're in my college.”  
“No I'm not!” hissed the man in reply. 

“Just look around you,” Derek told him, “Seriously, where do you think you are?”  
The man opened his mouth to reply as he turned to look around but stopped, eyes focusing on the stone buildings across the lawn. After a moment of taking in the sight of the gothic architecture of the bridge stretching across the river, he shook his head. 

“It looks like something out of Harry Potter,” he muttered, “This is ridiculous.”  
“I think some of Harry Potter was filmed around here,” Derek told him, giving a slight smile. He gestured towards the bridge beside him, “That's supposed to look Venetian, though. It was built like 200 years ago.”  
To his surprise, the man let out a snort of laughter.  
“Venetian, huh?” he asked, “Yeah, that makes sense.”  
“How?” Derek asked and the man rolled his eyes again.  
“Just look around you,” he mimicked and the world around Derek seemed to shift. 

He was still sat by a canal but it was shallower and clearer. Rather than a lawn, he was sat on a wooden deck covered in battered lawn furniture and the sprawling, stone buildings had become crowded wooden houses looming up on either side of the bank. The air seemed hotter although he suddenly found himself in shade. He glanced back towards his companion who raised an eyebrow. 

I have no idea where this is,” he admitted. The other man sighed.  
“You're in Venice. By the canals. My friend lives here.”  
Derek’s eyebrows shot up in confusion. “What in Italy?” The other man looked at him in disbelief.  
“In Los Angeles! Come on.” 

Derek laughed at the impatience in the man’s voice and pushed himself up, wandering over to the water and leaning over the fence to look down.  
After a moment’s silence as he drank in the sight of the peaceful suburbs, Derek asked, “So are you Californian then?”  
The man let out a bitter laugh. “Shouldn't you know all this since I made you up?”  
Derek sighed as he dropped into the seat beside the other man. “Just humour me, man. Think what you like but I feel like we're going in circles here.” 

The man frowned deeply but eventually sighed, dropping his shoulders. “Fine,” he snapped before dropping into a monotone, “No, I'm not from California, I'm from Maine. I moved to LA to program after I came out as trans and got kicked out by my family. Oh yeah, and since we're into introductions my name is William. William Pointdexter. Happy now?” 

Derek blinked in surprise. “I-” he began but paused and then said, “Shit, I'm sorry man. That seriously sucks.”  
William gave a bitter smile, looking towards the canal water. A woman with a dog wandered past, the first person Derek had seen in the late afternoon, LA light.  
“Yeah, it really does,” he admitted reluctantly. 

“You know, I am real,” Derek told him, “You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I'm not just a hallucination.”  
William looked directly at Derek and raised his eyebrows. “Yeah. I figured. Don't think I could imagine someone as annoying as you.”  
“Great. thanks,” replied Derek sarcastically, before the pair settled into comfortable silences, simultaneously in Cambridge and Los Angeles. 

 

**New Orleans**

Spin. Jump. Land. Repeat. 

Bitty had always found something about skating calming. The precision of the movements, the lack of friction or resistance and the need for perfect balance always cleared his mind. Skating, the focus and the freedom of it all, allowed Bitty to forget the stress clouding his mind. When he skated, it didn't matter if he was struggling at school, isolated in his own town, alone in a city larger than any he'd known or possibly dying of a mysterious, unrecognisable disease. The focus and clarity of skating let him think without any panic.

Spin. Jump. Land. Repeat. 

It was silent in the rink. Bitty had forgotten his phone in his bag in his rush to get onto the ice, so there was no music playing. Instead, he was left alone with his thoughts, working slowly through everything that had happened to him in the past week. A slight smile played on his face as he remembered Katya’s advice. 

“Some people will tell you that when on the ice you leave all problems,” she’d told him as she watched him try to balance on the point of one skate, “That is stupid. You are the same person on ice as you are off-ice. Skating is like life; you cannot leave problem; you must work through. On ice, you take energy of worry and you use it. If you are scared, stressed, sad, or angry - when you carry weight of world on shoulders - you work out how to carry it with you.”

Bitty had followed that advice for a long time. He'd got through school with it; got through the bullying, arguments with his father, procrastination habits, moving in the middle of a year and even the realisation he was gay. He'd got through leaving Madison and all the pain that had come with that, he'd survived in a big, unfamiliar city all alone. And now this.

Doctor Hall had told him that preliminary tests had shown nothing wrong with him but he had asked to send off blood samples for more tests. Bitty had reluctantly agreed to this but steadfastly refused to take any treatment for headaches. After several minutes of arguing, Bitty had admitted he couldn't afford it. Doctor Hall had frowned, all genuine concern which made Bitty wince in response. 

“I really think it's best that you take something for these migraines you're getting. Can't you ask your parents to help you out?”

And so Bitty had ended up at the skating rink, with no medicine and no answers. 

Spin. Jump. Land. Repeat. Stop your hands shaking, skate until the tears you're holding back don't sting your eyes anymore until you don't feel like you're choking and the confusion fades to calm. Skate until you can carry the weight of your problems both on and off the ice.

Bitty closed his eyes for a moment, taking deep breaths as he paused, perfectly balanced. He opened his eyes to find that the rink’s lights were suddenly blindingly bright. He squinted, slowly beginning to make out unfamiliar shapes. 

Someone rushed by on skates and the blast of wind brought sounds with it. A crowd cheered loudly, shouting and screaming as a loud voice announced unfamiliar names. Bitty flinched as someone wearing a blue and yellow jersey raced by holding a stick. Looking around he saw that he stood in a much larger rink than he had just been in; the ice ringed by excited spectators watching the game of ice hockey that Bitty stood in the midst of. No one seemed to notice him as they played as if he was invisible to everyone. 

He turned slowly, struggling to take it in. People flashed past in blue, white and yellow or black, carrying sticks and shouting. A huge screen showed the puck being passed between players, making Bitty dizzy. He glanced over his shoulders and saw a player in a blue, white and yellow jersey rushing straight towards him. As he turned away, flinching and covering his head with his arms, he caught a flash of panicked blue eyes focused on him with horror.

**Providence**

Jack spotted the figure on the ice only moments before he crashed into him. He'd been focused on the puck completely, shouts and noises telling him where his teammates and their opposition were on the ice. Then he had sent the puck flying, right to Guy who had skated away quickly and Jack had swerved away to get away from the other team who had crowded too close around him. But turning, he had found himself headed towards the stranger on the ice, too quickly to stop. 

The man stared at him, eyes wide and confused. He seemed strangely small and elegant, painfully out of place when compared to the tall hockey players in their bulky hockey gear; instead, wearing just black leggings and a worn, red t-shirt which hung off his shoulders and only made him seem smaller. Jack noted that his skates weren't hockey skates although he seemed very steady and even dignified, shoulders back and head held high, as he stood steadily on the ice. His blond hair glinted like gold in the bright rink lights. As he focused on Jack, his deep brown eyes grew wide and expression quickly transformed from confusion into one of horror. 

The world seemed to slow as Jack became completely focused on the man in front of him, who brought his hands up to cover his head and turned away from Jack and braced for impact. Jack swerved to the side, feeling panicked as he felt himself brush past the other man. Vaguely, he wondered how no one had noticed or announced the man getting onto the rink. 

Jack skidded to a halt and spun around, expecting to see the man sprawled across the ice but the patch of ice he should have been in was empty. Instead, a King’s player rushed past, oblivious to the presence of anyone not playing hockey on the ice. Jack looked around, disoriented and shocked. He was frozen to the spot until a shout from Tater whizzing past him, jolted him out of his reverie. 

“You know to go after the puck, yes?” Tater chirped, grinning underneath his helmet. Jack nodded silently, still struggling to process what had just happened. With a sigh, he grasped at his stick and began to skate towards the King’s goal, trying to put it behind him. 

**New Orleans**

Bitty slammed to the ground, landing painfully on his knees and the palms of his hands, his eyes closed. He had felt the man brush past his as he'd swerved away, just enough to unbalance him and send him falling to the floor. His eyes snapped open and he stared around him, expecting someone to be rushing towards him. But he was alone in the rink.

The lights had dimmed, returning to the artificial orange he was familiar with rather than the glaring white light of the other rink. The cheering crowds were gone, leaving Bitty in silence. Slowly, he climbed to his feet. 

Standing in the middle of the empty rink Bitty began to shake. Slowly he made his way to the rink’s edge, not trusting his legs to support him and not trusting that his mind would not conjure up some new hallucination. He dug in his bag until he found his phone. Dropping into the bench, he dialled Tony’s number and waited as it rang.

“Hey,” Bitty said hesitantly, “I'm at the rink but, uh, could you pick me up?” He paused for a moment before saying, “No, Doctor Hall couldn't find anything but they're going to take a closer look and get back to me.” Another pause and Bitty took a deep breath before replying. “No, I - I don't know if I'm alright. Some weird stuff has been happening. I think that I, I think I need to talk to you about it. I've been- I'm seeing things which aren't there.”

Bitty held back a sob as Tony’s worried voice filled his ear, reassuring him and promising to get him soon. As he hung up, his shoulders slumped and he dropped his head into his hands, wondering what the hell was supposed to happen next.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hong Kong**

“Cait! It happened again!” Caitlyn Farmer heard her boyfriend shout. She dropped the book she had been holding and rushed into the other room where Chris was curled up on the sofa, beaming happily. 

“What happened this time?” she asked, suppressing the twinge of fear she felt as she sat beside Chris on the sofa. He put his arm around her shoulder, pulling her closer and Caitlyn could feel how he was practically vibrating with excitement. 

“His name was Derek Nurse - he lives in England!” Chris explained with a grin, “I've seen him before - on the ferry, remember?”   
Caitlyn nodded slowly, remembering Chris’ confusion and her fear after her boyfriend had seen a man disappear into thin air. 

Chris didn't notice her quiet hesitation, too caught up in his own enthusiasm.   
“He goes to Cambridge! Isn't that cool?! And he was saying that the same stuff has been happening to him - just like Adam said! There must be quite a few of us with this connection because Derek was talking about this guy called William who he’s seen a lot. I don't think they get along very well.”

Caitlyn couldn't help but smile at that. Chris’s enthusiasm was always infectious.   
“That's, what, six you know about now?” she asked and felt Chris nod above her. He pressed a quick kiss to her hair and she leant into him, a slight smile playing at her lips. 

“Can you do me a favour?” he asked, “Derek said he went to Trinity College so I was wondering if you'd look it up for me?”   
Caitlyn sighed and rolled her eyes. “Only stuff that's available to the public,” she said firmly. Chris drew away and pouted slightly. Caitlyn gently tapped his nose.  
“I'm not gonna hack into Cambridge University’s student records. That's creepy. And illegal. But I will do a bit of digging if you want me to,” she allowed and Chris gave her a wide, grateful grin before bounding up off the sofa.

“Thank you so much, I love you!” he told her, leaning down to kiss her, “Anyway, I need to go meet mum at the park! It's gonna take a while to walk there!”  
Caitlyn groaned and shuddered. “I can't believe you can walk anywhere in this heat. Especially central Kowloon. It's like a sauna!”

Chris laughed. “You’re such a wimp when it comes to heat. I thought LA was supposed to be hot.”  
“It's a dry heat,” Caitlyn argued, “I can deal with dry heat by of course my parents had to drag me to a place where the air is like a sponge.”   
“Bet you're glad you came, though,” Chris commented as he grabbed his shoes and smiled down at Caitlyn. Looking up at her boyfriend, she was inclined to agree. 

She watched as Chris hurried around the room, gathering his things. The creeping doubt and worry began I enter her mind again and she found herself pulling at the edge of her shorts anxiously. 

“You're sure you're okay, though?” she blurted out, causing Chris to pause as he ruffled through a draw.   
“Cait, I'm fine. I feel fine,” he told her confidently, “Don't worry.”

Caitlyn pouted as she stood up and wandered towards her boyfriend. “Well, I do. And you have to admit all the stuff that's happening to you is pretty weird.”  
“That doesn't mean it's bad,” Chris pointed out.   
Caitlyn sighed in response. “I just feel that we might be out of our depths here.”

Chris gently put his hands on Caitlyn’s lightly freckled shoulders.   
“Sweetie, I'm okay. I'm not feeling ill. You know I'm not sick, right?”   
“I know - I trust you. But we don't know what it is, shouldn't we try and find out? It could be bad and we just don't know yet!” She lowered her voice slightly, “I just want to know you're okay, babe.”

Chris smiled gently at her. “It's not bad,” he assured her, “I've got a good feeling about this stuff, even if it is strange.”  
Caitlyn gave a half-smile. “You have a good feeling about everything, Chris.”   
Chris grinned in response, braces flashing. “I know! But I've never been wrong so far!”

With that, he drew Caitlyn into a warm, quick kiss before hurrying out of the apartment door. 

**New Orleans/Los Angeles**

Bitty flinched as he spun around to see an unfamiliar red-headed man sitting at the kitchen table. His sharp intake of air caused the man to jump and look up at him, eyes wide and surprised. 

“You're in my kitchen,” Bitty said flatly, exhaustion flooding his body. The man looked around the room and frowned. Beyoncé played tinnily from his phone on the counter and light flooded in through the window, golden and thick.   
“Yeah, I am,” the man agreed, his voice resigned as he grimaced and his shoulders dropped, “Hi.”  
“Hello,” Bitty said shortly before turning back to the half-formed pie on the side, resolutely ignoring the man in the middle of the kitchen. 

The pair sat in silence for a long time, Bitty still painfully aware of the other man’s continued presence. He could clearly hear the shallow breathing and the muffled turning of pages above his music. Finally, he heard the book close and it thumped quietly against the table. 

“You're a lot quieter than the other one,” the man commented softly, staring down at his hands and not looking at Bitty as the shorter man spun round and glared at him.   
“Yes.” Bitty replied before turning back to his pie and beginning to assemble it, his movements aggressive and sharp. 

“This is all so freaking weird,” the guy scoffed, drumming his fingers against the kitchen table. Bitty gritted his teeth as the noise seemed to fill the quiet kitchen. Finally, he snapped.  
Whirling round he shouted at the figure at his table, “Can’t you just go away? I don’t want you here, I just want to be normal! Just leave!”

The man flinched slightly and Bitty felt guilt deep in the pit of his stomach as he looked into the man’s wide, shocked eyes.  
“I- I’m sorry - I can't. I don't know how,” he began, clearly startled. His expression quickly faded into a scowl, “Look, this isn't fun for me either! I didn't exactly plan to be here. I-”

He was interrupted by Tony entering the kitchen, clearly hurrying. He stopped in the doorway, looking at Bitty with clear concern.   
“I heard you shout, are you alright?” he asked hurriedly, stepping forwards. Bitty’s shoulders dropped. 

Bitty had thought that it might have gotten better since he told Whiskey and Tony, but they had become even more protective than ever. Honesty wasn't always the best policy and it was clear sharing hadn't helped him at all either, as evidenced by the tall, ginger man at his kitchen table who was staring at Tony with slight surprise. 

“He can't see me,” the man commented quietly, reaching out cautiously as Tony passed him, joining Bitty at the counter.   
“Of course he can't see you, you're a hallucination,” snapped Bitty before sighing and turning to the counter. He picked opened the oven door letting out a wave of heat as Tony hovered, concern clear on his face. 

“Are you seeing things again, is it the hockey players in black and in blue and yellow again?” he asked, parroting Bitty’s phrasing from the day before. Bitty grimaced and nodded. 

“Sounds like the Kings v. Falconers match,” the stranger commented as Tony worriedly asked, “Are you sure you should be baking, you might get hurt?”

“I'm fine, I'm not an invalid!” Bitty snapped before pausing and looking strangely at the man, “Sorry, what did you say?”  
The guy shrugged. “There was a hockey match between the LA Kings and the Providence Falconers yesterday. Everyone around here couldn't stop going on about it. The uniforms match what your friend said.”

Bitty was silent for a moment before in a strained voice, he asked, “Tony can you look up yesterday's hockey match between the LA Kings and the Providence Falconers? Please.”  
“I- Um, sure,” Tony said, his forehead furrowing with a confused frown as he pulled his phone out of his pocket. Bitty crossed his arms anxiously as Tony typed, the stranger still awkwardly sitting by the table. 

Finally, Tony held out his phone to show Bitty an article; the headline reading, ‘Falconers win 4-2.’ Underneath the headline, a picture showed several men dressed in all too familiar uniforms. Slowly, Bitty let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding and clutched at the counter behind him for support that his legs suddenly weren't providing. 

“That's where I was,” he murmured, “I saw them, I- I was on the ice with them - I was at that game, I recognise it!” He looked up at Tony, hope beginning to grow, “What if - what if I'm not going mad? What if this is something more?”

Tony opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Whiskey stormed into the room scowling a moment later. 

“God, it was such a nightmare parking, I could barely get into the apartments!” he exclaimed, dumping his bag on the table which was abandoned now - the stranger seemed to have disappeared. “There were all these black vans outside blocking the entrances. Total bastards, some company called LAX.”

 

**Lagos/Ho Chi Min City**

Justin’s hands were shaking slightly as he made his way into the hospital’s research labs. It wasn't that he wasn't allowed in - in fact, the security guard had smiled and greeted him by name as he had made his way towards the labs. It was more that he didn't want to know the results of the testing he had done earlier. 

He pushed past the large sign informing that the new labs were funded by the ‘International Laboratory of Alleles and Xenogenesis’ and entered the quiet room filled with shiny, new medical research equipment. Justin had considered the laboratory to be a blessing when it had first arrived - a large American-based company investing research money into a small hospital in Lagos had been a dream come true. A glitch with the close hospital system that allowed non-research hospital staff onto the computer; even better. However, as Justin walked over to the computer he had been working at earlier all he could feel was a sinking sense of dread. 

He took a deep breath as he logged into his account. The system took a long time to load and he impatiently tapped his fingers against the desk. The results began to filter onto the screen and Justin frowned deeply as he looked at them, trying to remember what he'd learnt about DNA make-up at university. Everything seemed normal, all the readings were familiar - the same as he remembered from performing the procedure before. 

Justin groaned and moved towards the logout button. It had been a long shot, he known that all along, but that didn't stop him from hoping for an explanation. Despite his medical training, Justin couldn't figure out what the cause of his visual and auditory - and occasionally sensory - hallucinations could be. The DNA testing had been his last hope to find something he could put into words. But it hadn't. 

Before he had the chance to leave the page, a red box flashed up on the screen along with a loud, alarming sound. A surprised gasp came from behind him, causing him to spin round. A girl was standing in the middle of the dim room, clutching a battered paint brush. She looked him up and down, before glancing around the room with curious eyes. She was shorter than Justin, by a lot, but stood straight, her chin jutting out defiantly. Her hair fell messily, short and choppy much like the dark t-shirt and shorts she wore. She looked strangely familiar though Justin couldn't quite place her. 

Looking extremely out of place amongst the shiny equipment, the girl sighed. “Oh great, I'm doing it again. Where am I now?”   
“Who are you?” Justin asked, ignoring her, “What are you doing in the labs? Are you a patient?”  
The girl raised an eyebrow at Justin. “I'm Larissa. No, I'm not a patient. Is this a hospital then?”   
“What are you doing in here then?” 

She rolled her eyes. “I don't know. I just heard a noise in my house and then I was here. That's how it works, have you figured that out yet?”   
“How what works?” Justin snapped, not wanting to hear the answer.   
The girl laughed quietly. “Whatever's going on with us. I don't know how to describe it but I know it's happening to you too - I saw you with the blond guy the night it started,” she scoffed and then paused, looking at Justin with wide-eyes, “Y’know; seeing random people, visiting new places, hearing noises which aren't there, seeing other people in the mirror? All the weird stuff happening?

Justin breathed in shakily. “I thought I was going mad,” he admitted, only half-convinced he wasn't, “I- you called me - and the guy I was with - hallucinations though?”  
The girl shrugged. “I thought I was mad too. But this isn't any type of madness I recognise. I mean, yeah, I'm seeing places I've never been and I found a naked dude in my bed the other day - not in the sexy way, but I'm the same person I was before.”  
“It doesn't make any sense, though!” exclaimed Justin, not sure why he felt the need to argue with a hallucination.   
“Of course it doesn't,” the stranger said with, raising her eyebrows, “But that's life. And just cause it doesn't make sense now, doesn't mean it won't one day. What was once magic is now science. Maybe this is something entirely new.”

Justin couldn't help but laugh bitterly. “That's what I'm trying to find out,” he told the girl, gesturing to the computer behind him. She walked over, crossing her arms as she frowned at the screen. 

“This could help answer whatever's going on with me,” Justin told her and she scowled at him momentarily.   
“Whatever's going on with us,” she corrected before turning back to the computer screen.

**‘Warning: Type 1 Active Xenogenesis noted in DNA Proteins.’** It read in imposing red letters. Then below it, in smaller writing, it read, “Would you like to submit results to records?”

After a short pause, she asked, “Any idea what that means?”  
Justin frowned for a moment before shaking his head. “Sounds ominous, though.”  
The girl looked up at him before glancing back at the computer screen and sighing. “Great. So we got an answer but we don't know what it means?” Justin hummed in agreement and the girl leant forwards. After a moment’s silence, she commented, “Maybe the records will tell us.” 

The records took a while to load. Justin and the girl sat in comfortable silence as one by one, names and dates began to pop up on screen.

**‘Julie Anderson - Cumbria - Deceased’** the first one read. underneath it, **‘Haru Takeda - Tokyo - Neutralised.’** Feeling a sense of growing dread, Justin scrolled down. Hundreds of names and places filled the screen, all followed by the word **‘Deceased’** or **‘Neutralised’** in ominous bold lettering. His companion drew in a sharp breath.

“What the hell is this?” Justin muttered, eyes scanning across the names with horror, “Why are they all dead? What the hell does ‘Neutralised’ mean?”  
“I have no idea,” the girl murmured before suddenly stabbing her finger at the screen, “Wait! Stop!” 

Justin pulled his hand off the mouse as if it had burnt him. “What? What is it?”  
The girl ran her finger down the screen, coming to a halt at a name.   
“Look. It's different,” she explained. Justin squinted and read the name out loud.   
**“Eric Bittle - New Orleans - Under Surveillance.”**  
“Click on it - we might be able to see what's going on,” the girl told him excitedly and Justin followed her instructions. 

The LAX logo came up first, large white letters on a black background. Then a pictured loaded; a cropped selfie, brown hair and an ear still showing at the photo's edges. In the middle was a pale, blond boy smiling widely at the camera, his brown, doe-like eyes crinkled with laughter. The girl beside him gasped. 

“I know him! I've seen him before! He was in the mirror yesterday,” she said frantically, “He's 'under surveillance'. Do you think he's going to end up like the others on the list?”   
Justin swallowed. “Maybe-” he began hesitantly, “Maybe it's some kind of illness? And they're monitoring him? So he doesn't get worse? Neutralised could mean they get better.”

His voice sounded painfully unconvincing, even to himself. The girl beside him scoffed.   
“There's a word for that - recovered,” she said sharply and then shook her head, “And the photo - that's weird.”  
“How is that strange?” Justin asked, his eyes taking in the scanned medical documents below the photo. 

The girl gestured towards the screen as she explained, “They've got all these official documents from other organisations. It looks like they're researching him. But the only photo they have right now is from social media. If it was official they'd have a proper ID photo - passport or something. But it's like they just grabbed the first thing they found. Kinda stalkerish.”  
“You recognised him from it,” Justin pointed out and felt the girl shudder beside him.   
“That's what I'm worried about. It's like he's being hunted.”

Justin opened his mouth to argue but he couldn't deny the worried clenching in his gut as he pulled out his phone and took a photo of the profile.   
“I'd lose my job if anyone knew I'd taken a photo of this. It's all private research,” he admitted, “I'm not even supposed to see research results, it's all a computer glitch.”   
“It's a lucky one then,” the girl commented darkly. She paused for a moment before saying quickly, “You need to delete your results. I might be wrong - I hope I'm wrong. But just to be safe.” 

Justin nodded as he closed the browser, clicking the delete button on the DNA sample results as he did. As the generic desktop photo appeared he felt a great sense of relief. Stepping away from the computer he gave his companion a tight smile. She nodded at him shakily. 

“I'm Larissa, by the way. Larissa Duan - I live in Vietnam.”  
“Justin Oluransi,” Justin replied, sticking out his hand, “I'm in Nigeria.” 

They shook hands, hers feeling surprisingly warm and solid in his. Larissa dropped his hand and sighed, shoving her hands deep into her pockets.   
“This is some bad shit, man. We're in way more trouble than I thought. I mean, I thought it was weird. I didn't think it was this dangerous.”   
Justin grimaced. “And whatever it is, I'm right in the middle of it. I don't know what LAX is doing, but it isn't good.”


	4. Chapter 4

**New Orleans**

Bitty was immediately drawn to the man in the corner. He wasn't clear if it was his mothering instincts telling him to find out why the man looked so lost and confused, or if it was the fact that, even in the flashing club lights, it was clear that the man was undeniably attractive. Even in just a t-shirt and jeans, he had some kind of effortless beauty; the club lights casting deep shadows across his chiselled face, emphasising his sharp cheekbones and messy dark hair. Despite the look of bewilderment he wore, he was breath-taking and Bitty felt inexplicably drawn to him. 

“Hey, sweetie! Anything I can do for you tonight?” he shouted above the pounding of the music. He gestured towards the tray of glasses he held and nodded at the empty glass in the man’s hand. The man looked down at it as if he was surprised to find he was holding it. He looked back up at Bitty and frowned in confusion. 

“You work here?” he said hesitantly and Bitty smiled sunnily at him, nodding.  
“Yup! What drink did you have?”   
The man blinked at him, his expression blank. “I- I was just getting water.”   
“Sure! That's no problem,” Bitty said cheerily, reaching out and taking the glass from the man, “You sure you don't want anything else? We have other non-alcoholic drinks like lemonade if you'd prefer.” He paused briefly, smiling up into the man’s incredibly blue eyes, before adding, “It's on the house.”

He could almost hear Whisky tutting, back where he was working at the bar, but he pushed the thought away. He'd been too stressed for too long, Bitty could allow himself to flirt with a beautiful man for a bit, even if he was at work. However, the beautiful man in question didn't seem to be picking up on the flirtation. He blinked at Bitty, still seeming slightly shell-shocked.

“No - I was just getting water,” he said, glancing around with worry clear on his face, “I - I don't know where I am. I have no idea how I got here.”

Bitty felt cold. He’d been working at the club for months and he wasn't usually so slow to recognise the signs of someone drugged. But the man’s quick, heavy breathing and his clear confusion pointed in that direction. He peered up, trying to see the man’s eyes but the darkness of the club and the angle meant he couldn't see dilated pupils. He stepped forwards, gently taking the man’s elbow.

“Sit down,” he instructed, removing the glass from the man’s hand as he guided him to a nearby seat, “Do you know what you've had? Did someone give you anything?”  
The man stared at him, face still showing blank confusion as he followed Bitty’s guidance.  
“I don't know, I just got here but I don't know how!” he exclaimed, beginning to sound frantic.   
“You're safe, you don't need to panic. I'm here to help,” Bitty reassured him, “I'm Bitty. What's your name?”  
“It's Jack,” the man replied, looking up at Bitty. His expression transformed into one of shock, “I - I know you!”

“Sorry, what?” Bitty asked, thrown by this sudden confession. He stepped backwards, worry for himself starting to creep into his mind. He glanced back, wondering if he could see any of the other staff. However, he was just met with a mass of unfamiliar people. 

“I've seen you before - on the ice,” Jack explained, an unfamiliar accent beginning to become more pronounced as he spoke, “You were in the middle of my match. I nearly skated into you but you just disappeared.”

Bitty felt sick as Jack’s words brought up an all too familiar picture. He stared, equally shocked, at the man in front of him. He took a shaky breath. “How do you know about that? That was just me, I was- It wasn't real!”  
Jack shook his head. “I saw you - you just appeared on the ice. How - Where am I? What is this?”

Lights flashed past Jack’s face, revealing the startling blue eyes which he had caught a glimpse of a few days before. Bitty jumped slightly as a jolt of recognition passed through him. The tray he held fell to the floor with a crash, glass shattering around him. The broken shards looked like stars spread across a grimy floor of a sky, as the glass glittered in the club’s flashing lights. Bitty stepped back with a squeal, moving away from the mess of broken glass. He glanced back up towards Jack but was barely suprised to see he was gone, the corner in front of Bitty as empty as if he had never existed. 

 

**Providence**

Jack’s hands were shaking as he grabbed his phone. The room was impenetrably dark, especially after the club’s flashing, disorientating lights that had made Jack’s head spin. As a faint blue glow illuminated the room around him, Jack tried to calm his breathing. He fumbled with it slightly as he scrolled through his contacts, selecting one and pressing it to his ear. As it dialled the number he closed his eyes, breathing deeply and clutching at the kitchen counter, trying to avoid the smashed glass lying across the stone surface. 

Finally, there was a click as the person on the other end picked up.   
“What the hell? Do you know what time it is?” The voice said, sounding annoyed. Jack sighed in relief.   
“Kenny? It's me, Jack,” he said, still leaning heavily on the counter.   
“Yeah, I know,” Kent Parson replied testily, “It's the 21st century, I have caller ID. I've got practice tomorrow morning, why are you calling?”

Jack paused, struggling to find the words to describe what he wanted to ask. The silence hung heavily across the dark kitchen. Jack heard Kent’s breathing hitch slightly before he began talking, a frantic edge to his voice.  
“Jack? Are you okay? Is something wrong?”   
“What was I like?” Jack interrupted, his voice surprisingly hoarse, “Before I- before I overdosed? How strangely did I act?”  
“Dude, don't you remember this?” Kent said, his voice hesitant and worried, “What's going on Jack?”

Kent was uncharacteristically quiet as Jack explained the events of the last few weeks. When Jack finished, his voice trembling, Kent took a deep breath.   
“That's fucked,” he admitted, “But that doesn't sound anything like what was going on with you when we were kids.”   
Jack sighed, leaning his forehead in his hands. “I thought not. I- I just needed to know- to know this is something else.”

“Sounds like it,” Kent commented bluntly. He paused for a moment before continuing, “Sounds like some seriously fucked Stanley Cup magic or something.”   
Jack couldn't help but give a quiet, bitter laugh. “Seriously? You think this is magic? That's your first reaction?”  
“Look, as a Stanley Cup winner,” Kent said, pausing to emphasise the ‘winner’ part of his statement, “Weird stuff happens around that Cup and I ain’t gonna dismiss the fact that all your shit could be an extension of that.” 

“You're an asshole.”  
“I know, I know. But hear me out. I know you don't like admitting it, but I know you- better than most people do. And I know what you're like when you have a mental breakdown.” He was quiet for a second and when he continued, his voice sounded choked. “I've seen you lose it up close, okay? And this is not the same thing.”

“What the hell do I do, Kenny?” Jack asked desperately.   
“Go to sleep,” Kent replied, “It's the middle of the goddamn night. You go to sleep, you wake up and you figure it out day to day. That's what people like us do. It's what we've always done and it's the way you're gonna get through it.”

**Bangalore/New Orleans**

The shock of walking through a door in his grey New Orleans apartment only to find himself standing by a sea lit by a setting sun was nearly enough to make him drop his pie. Not quite though - Bitty had lived through a lot with a pie in his hand. 

He did stop in his tracks, though, gaping out at the sunset which was painting the sea below it a vibrant orange. The sea was calm, lapping gently at the sand. Although there were lines of beach lounges to his left, the beach seemed completely abandoned. 

Well almost completely abandoned. As Bitty let out a shocked breath. He heard movement on the sand behind him and spun round to see a tall man with long brown hair and an impressive moustache walking up behind him. He shrieked and stumbled backwards a few steps, slipping in the soft sand beneath his socks. 

The man who, Bitty noticed, wore only a battered pair of cargo shorts, held up his hands in a placating gesture.   
“Woah - no need to panic, mate,” he said quickly, “I was just coming down to say hi.”

Bitty frowned at the sound of the strange accent, letting his shoulders drop into a less defensive stance.   
“Are you Australian?” he asked, “Is this Australia?”   
The man glared at him and threw his hands in the air, shaking his head in apparent despair.   
“Am I an Aussie?” he asked sarcastically, “God no! I'm a Kiwi, dude.”   
Bitty stared at the man in confusion and the stranger sighed. “I'm from New Zealand. And no, you're in Goa; in India. I'm Shitty, hi!” 

Bitty spluttered, “Excuse me?”   
The man grinned widely. “It's what everyone calls me. Shitty.”  
Bitty opened his mouth to ask why but was cut off. “It's a long story but it's what all my friends call me. Better than my actual name anyway. And you are?”  
“Everyone calls me Bitty,” Bitty told the man hesitantly. Shitty laughed happily. “Shitty and Bitty! Ha, nice. You want a beer or something?”

Bitty shot Shitty a disapproving look. “It's not even midday yet. No thank you.”  
“Does it look like it’s past midday here?” Shitty asked with a raised eyebrow, gesturing at the setting sun. “But gotta respect different time zones. Where are you coming from anyway; is that a Texan accent?” 

It was Bitty’s turn to scoff. “Excuse me, I am from Georgia. Just because I'm Southern, doesn't mean I'm Texan.” he paused for a moment before admitting, “I was just in New Orleans.”   
Shitty nodded, hastily trying to conceal the flicker of shock that flashed across his features. “That's pretty cool. Nice to meet you Bitty. If you're not gonna have a drink, have a seat while you're here?” 

He pointed towards a sun-bed but Bitty dithered, still clutching the pie. Shitty noticed as he sat down and shrugged.   
“Dump it anywhere. It's not physically here so it's not gonna get sand on or anything.”   
Bitty carefully set it down on an adjoining sun-bed before sitting lightly on the seat beside Shitty’s. 

There was a long moment of silence as Bitty took a seat. He didn't lean back and relax, instead sitting gingerly on the edge of the sun-bed, picking at his nails like a guest in a house they don't want to be in. Shitty on the other hand, seemed completely at ease. 

“So,” Bitty said after a tense moment which only he seemed to be experiencing, “Are you on holiday in, um, Goa? I mean, you're Australian, why are you in India?”   
Shitty grinned. “I live here, mate!” He gestured at the beach with his beer bottle and then paused, “Well, y’know, not here-here. I'm on holiday right now. But I’m part of a law firm based in Bangalore. We do cases about international companies in developing countries. It's interesting stuff, lots of travelling.”

Bitty hummed in agreement. “I've never even left the US,” he remarked absent-mindedly and then flushed. “Sorry, that makes me sound stupid.”   
Shitty shifted to look at him and raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Dude, no way!” he exclaimed passionately, “I always wanted to travel and I got lucky and got a job that drags me to random places. But it's not for everyone and I get that. I’m not one of those people with a stick up their ass about the ‘spirituality of travel’ - especially when financial and safety concerns act as barriers with so many people.” 

Bitty gave a snort of laughter and let his shoulders relax slightly. “I'd like to,” he admitted, “There are loads of places I'd like to see. It was a struggle enough to get Coach outta Georgia, though me and Mama did get to Florida a few times.” He smiled at the memory of his father’s grumbling but it quickly slipped away. “But since I've moved out, travelling anywhere isn't really an option.” 

He knew his voice was bitter but he couldn't be bothered to hide it.  
“Moved out?” Shitty asked gently, his words giving Bitty a way out of the question his voice clearly asked, “To New Orleans?”  
“Yes,” Bitty said shortly, picking at the chair he sat tensely on. It must have been the sunset or the sound of the waves making him feel emotional as only a moment later he blurted out, “Some bad stuff happened. I didn't feel safe in Madison anymore - in Georgia, really. So I left as fast as I could. Ended up in New Orleans and haven't been back since.” 

“I'm sorry, that sucks,” Shitty said, his voice surprisingly sombre, “I haven't been home in years but that's mostly to avoid stupid family. It still hurts sometimes, though.”  
Bitty nodded and gave a sad smile, feeling Shitty’s eyes on him. “It really does. I was going to head back home - just for a visit - see if I could set stuff right, y'know? But all of this weird stuff has kinda thrown a wrench into those plans.” He paused a bit, grimacing, “Right now I don't even know if I'll get the chance to leave the country before I'm thrown into a mental hospital.” 

“Sounds like the perfect time to leave the country,” Shitty pointed out and Bitty couldn't help but snort. As Bitty leant back, eyes focused out to sea. When Shotty next spoke, his voice was gentle.  
“But seriously, though?” he said, “You have left the country. You're here - experiencing a sunset in Goa. You say weird stuff like it's a bad thing but c’mon, you gotta admit there's something pretty amazing about watching a sunset on a beach on the other side of the world whilst never leaving your house.”

“It's not like I'm really here, though,” Bitty said, staring down at his feet and dropping his shoulders.   
“Of course you are!” Shitty practically shouted in excitement as he sat up. Bitty turned his head to look at the other man. “You're not watching it on a screen - you're seeing it with your own two eyes. You can smell the sea and the air, hear the wind, feel sand below your feet, whatever! You're experiencing this and just because you don't understand why doesn't mean your experiences aren't valid. I don't know about you, but the fact I can blink and find myself in any random place in the world is pretty fucking amazing! You've left the USA! You - or at least part of you - is watching a sunset in India! In my opinion, it doesn't get much cooler than that.”

Bitty couldn't stop a smile creeping onto his face as he watched the other man gesture passionately. As he stared out at an unfamiliar sea, painted in the vibrant colours of a setting sun, he could see what Shitty meant. He leant back and took a deep breath of humid, salty air. His hand brushed along the sandy fibres of the beach chair. It felt real. He couldn't explain it at all, but it felt intensely real and new.

“I think I getcha,” he told Shitty who hummed in acknowledgement.   
“You sure you don't want a beer, man?” he asked flippantly, “This is literally the perfect example of the ‘it's always 5 o’clock somewhere’ sentiment.”

Bitty sent the long-haired man a scathing look and Shitty held up his hands defensively.   
“Fine, fine. No beer. Just sunset watching and chatting,” he allowed. Bitty gave a happy hum of agreement.   
“For once,” he said, feeling more relaxed than he had been in days, “I'm alright with that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goa's always been my ultimate happy place and I've always wanted to write about so here you go. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Providence/Ho Chi Min**

Jack eyed the girl at the bus stop beside him with confusion. It was a hot day for Providence - easily t-shirt weather, especially for Jack who was very well adjusted to the cold. But this girl was wearing a long black coat. Not only that but despite the cloudless blue sky, she carried a large umbrella, white with a brightly-coloured patterned inside. 

Jack was aware that fashion often passed him by, much to the chagrin of his mother, but he didn't even vaguely recognise this kind of trend. Anyway, a fashion trend that involved wearing a heat-stroke creating coat struck even him as faintly ridiculous.

It wasn't until she shifted her umbrella and he was hit in the face by several drops of water that he realised something was seriously amiss. 

His flinch away from the sudden downpour caused the girl to turn to him and raised an eyebrow.   
“Are you alright?” she asked, frowning down at him with concern.   
“Where did that water come from?” Jack asked, his confusion mounting by the minute. The girl gave an incredulous laugh.   
“It's raining,” she said bluntly, “Where do you think it's coming from?” 

And suddenly it was. It was as if his surroundings were an optical illusion and he had just spotted the alternative picture in it - suddenly the world around him was rain-drenched. The mid-afternoon sunlight was covered by grey clouds and it was pouring down, the unfamiliar Tarmac in front of him awash with dirty brown water. Jack jumped as he felt the rain, surprisingly warm against his bare skin. It soaked through his t-shirt and plastered his hair to his head as he stared at the busy street in front of him in shock. The air was filled with the noises of traffic, painfully different from the quiet Providence outskirts he had just been. 

“I- what?” Jack asked, half-laughing yet feeling his chest tighten as he began to breathe too rapidly.   
The girl’s frown deepened and she cocked her head at him. “You're not in Vietnam, are you?”

Jack shook his head silently, clutching desperately at the metal bench he sat on. He trembled slightly, the noise of the traffic rushing by and the feeling of rain on his skin suddenly far too much to cope with. It felt suffocating. He flinched as the girl dropped onto the bench beside him. 

“Hey, hey,” she said, her voice soft, “It's alright. This keeps happening to me - you'll be fine.”  
Jack closed his eyes and took several deep breaths, blocking out the screaming voice in his mind telling him the air didn't feel right - it was too humid, too much pollution and permeated with the scent of cardamom and oil.

He opened his eyes as his breathing slowed slightly, trying to take in the sensations one at a time. Blinking quickly, he looked around at the buildings and signs in an unfamiliar language. The letters seemed to swim slightly before his eyes and suddenly the restaurant name floated unbidden into his eyes as he scanned the words. Tearing his eyes away, he looked at the girl beside him. 

She clutched at her umbrella and stared worriedly at him. Jack forced a weak smile.  
“Hi,” he said shakily, “I'm Jack.”  
“Larissa,” she replied cautiously, “Are you okay? You went really pale for a second there.”

Jack nodded stiffly. “I'm fine. Just a lot much to take in, eh?”  
“Yeah I know what you mean,” Larissa replied with a brief smile, “It's disconcerting to blink and find yourself somewhere completely different. You done this a lot?”  
“Not much,” Jack confessed, sitting up a little and finding that he towered above the short, dark-haired girl, “I'm not used to it. That's for sure.”  
“God, I know. It's not fun when you're not expecting it.” 

Jack hummed in agreement and they sat in silence for a few quiet moments, watching the rain fall.   
Out of nowhere, Larissa asked, “Have you ever heard of a company called LAX?”   
Jack glanced at her in surprise. “No. I don't know them. Why?” 

Larissa shrugged, clenching her fists. “I think they're looking for people who can do what we do. Go to different places suddenly, speak other languages fluently without learning them - form connections with other people half-way across the world. You know, what we’re doing now. They're getting people’s medical records and they're able to find us through this.”

“Doing research?” Jack asked, his stomach twisting slightly in trepidation. Larissa nodded and grimaced.   
“Isn't that good though? I mean, good medicine could help us control it and we could know what was actually happening. That could help.”  
“I don't think it's good medicine though. I saw this company’s records briefly and there were a lot of people ‘neutralised.’ It didn't sound good.” 

Jack winced slightly and dropped his head. “I don't want to go through all this again,” he admitted desperately, “God knows I've had enough of hospitals and therapy and medication to last me a lifetime. I don't want more procedures for a new problem. I just want things to stay how I can cope with them.” 

“Fuck,” Larissa said, her voice full of sympathy, “That sucks, dude.”  
Jack smiled bitterly and clenched his fists. “Yeah, it does.”  
“At least this time your won't be alone. I don't know what happened to you but there are a bunch of us connecting and we can work through it as a group.”  
“As a team,” muttered Jack, feeling slightly comforted at the thought.   
“Exactly,” Larissa agreed hesitantly, “We’re all trying to figure this out together. We can have each other’s backs.”  
Jack let himself smile slightly at Larissa who grinned back.   
“Sounds better than doing it alone,” he allowed. “We’ve got each other's backs.” 

The rain faded around him slowly, revealing the empty. Jack closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to stop his head spinning. When he opening them again, the world around him felt settled although he could feel invisible raindrops on his skin. Shaking the feeling away, he reached for his phone. He selected a number and held it up to his ear. 

“Hey, George. I just wanted to check about my medical results. No, I'm not worried about anything. It's just- they're still private right? The team management hasn't made them available anywhere? Yeah, that's great. No- there's no problem, I just wasn't sure. Okay, thanks, George, I'll see you tomorrow.”

As he hung up the phone, his world gave another disconcerting lurch and he found himself in a small alley.

**New Orleans**

Bitty cursed himself as he began hurrying down the alley, a man in a dark suit behind him also hurrying up. It was stupid, he should never have taken the shortcut in the dark, especially when he hadn't been able to shake the creepy feeling of trepidation off him since he saw the dark ‘LAX’ vans parked up on his street. 

They'd reminded him of something he couldn't put his finger on and he'd tried to push it away and ignore it. Stupid. People always said to trust your gut instincts. And now he was hurrying down an alley followed by a man in a dark suit who had climbed out of the van when he'd passed. It would have been easy to take the longer, crowded and well-lit route to the Stop-n-Shop but no, he'd had to take the short cut. 

The uneven ground of the alley made Bitty stumble and he struggled to keep his balance. When he looked back up, a familiar dark haired man was staring at him, clutching his phone. He stepped forwards, face transforming into a worried expression as he saw the stricken look on Bitty’s face. 

“Are you alright?”   
“I'm being followed.” His voice sounds pathetically desperate and tremulous, Bitty knew. Jack’s eyes flicked over to the man who must be nearly upon him. His face took on a focused look and he nodded.   
“Does he have any weapons? Do you think he's a mugger?”  
Bitty laughed. “In that suit? It looks like it costs more than my monthly rent.”   
Jack gave a slight smile, “Good point. Do you think you could outrun him?”

Bitty glanced back and sucked in a breath as he saw how close the man was. “Probably. But if he starts chasing me - and can catch up, then I'm screwed. And what if he has a gun?”  
Jack grimaced. “I'm a decent fighter but if he has a weapon- we need to be able to disarm him.” 

“Sounds like you need a cop,” someone said in a German accent, making Bitty shriek and spin round to see a tall, blonde man. “Sorry. I'm Adam. You said some guy was chasing you? And that he was armed.”   
“I don't know if he's armed, he could be. But yeah, he's bigger than me and I really don't want to get into a fight.”   
“Ah that's easy,” Adam grinned and rolled his shoulders, “Taking down mystery criminals is my job. Well. Security detailing is my current job but that's boring so I’m more than happy to take down some criminals.”

“How exactly is that gonna work?” Bitty glanced back and forth between the two men, his heart racing. “You're in my head, you're not here. Y’all keep offering to fight him for me, with I am very flattered by- trust me- I've had various daydreams about tall guys fighting for me but I really-”  
He stopped, realising he was babbling.   
Adam grinned. “Exactly; I'm in your head, anything I can do, you can do too.” 

Bitty felt a strange sensation as his muscles tensed and his vision blurred momentarily. “Oh Lord,” he muttered as he felt himself turn without quite meaning to, “Look - don't let me get badly hurt, alright? My health insurance is pretty terrible.”   
He heard Jack laugh and Adam made a tutting sound.   
“America’s health care scares me, I’m glad I live in Germany.”  
“Can’t disagree,” Jack agreed. There was a pause, then he explained, “I'm Canadian.”   
“Y’all need to shut your mouths,” Bitty replied, turning towards the the man who was nearly upon him, “Try some Southern hospitality some time, and you’d change that tune of yours.”   
Adam laughed. “Yeah, the hospitality may be great, but the hospitals? Not as much.”

“Eric Bittle?” The man’s voice cut off Jack’s short laugh. Bitty tensed, his eyes widening.  
“Oh shit man, I assume that's you?”   
“What do you want?” Bitty ignored Adam, staring at the man who had stopped in front of him.   
“We just want to talk. You're very ill. You need an operation and my organisation can help.”  
“Who’s ‘we’?” Bitty asked suspiciously.   
“We’re a medical research organisation. We can help you. But you need to come with me immediately. You're dangerously ill, it's urgent you get help as soon as possible. You may have started to hallucinate already and it's only going to get worse if we don't get you help.” 

The man pulled something out of his pocket and Bitty’s muscles reacted before he could even process what it was. He leapt forwards surprisingly fluidly, his fist crashing into the man’s jaw and forcing his head back. Something fell from his hand as he stumbled back. Bitty’s hands reached out and grabbed his shoulder, violently pulling him down to where Bitty could easily knee him in the stomach. 

The man was bent over wheezing and retching as Bitty stepped back. He glanced up, taking a staggering step towards Bitty, who’s foot shot out and hooked behind his ankle which caused him to crash rather violently to the ground. His head bounced against the concrete and he was still. 

Bitty stood still for a moment, breathing heavily. Feeling flooded back into his muscles and he shook violently.   
“Fuck, are you alright?” Jack’s hand was on his shoulder, helping him stay upright as the world adjusted itself around him. “Are you hurt?”  
“I, I think so. Just-”   
“Yeah, okay that's definitely weird, I'm sorry. I thought he was gonna pull a gun and I just reacted” Adam said, grimacing as he walked over to what the man had dropped.  
“It’s fine. You probably saved my life, so thanks? I think? I’ll try and figure it out when I’m less dizzy.”

“What did he drop?” Jack cut off Bitty’s rambling sharply. His hand rested on Bitty’s arm, helping him stay steady.   
“Syringe.” Adam poked it with his foot before grinning at Bitty, “See. This is why you guys need state health care - so random people don’t try and attack you with experimental drugs.”  
Bitty glared at him. “Funnily enough, this isn't exactly normal.” He paused and then shivered. “But a syringe? That’s- that’s horrific. What was he even trying to do?”  
“Knock you out maybe?” Adam suggested, “An injected anaesthetic could be a lot more powerful than anything like chloroform.” 

Bitty felt Jack’s hand tighten on his shoulder. “Crisse,” he muttered, “This is serious.”   
Bitty gave a shallow laugh and shook his head hopelessly. “What, the hallucinations didn’t tip you off about that? This is just a step further. I-I think I wanna get out of here now.”  
“Probably for the best,” Adam agreed fervently. Jack squeezed his shoulder again before dropping his hand and stepping back.   
“Stay safe. I’ll see you around,” he promised and Bitty nodded, looking up to find himself alone in the alley. 

**Ho Chi Min/Bangalore**

“Hey,” Larissa said, dropping down on the sofa beside the long-haired, “Glad to see you're not naked this time.”  
Shitty snorted. “No, you're not. Bet you're secretly broken up about not getting to see my hot bod.”  
Larissa patted him on the knee. “Sure. Whatever makes you feel good. What are you watching?” 

Shitty’s eyes lit up. “It's this Bollywood film called Om Shanti Om and it’s fucking wonderful,” he told her, gesturing dramatically with a brown beer bottle, “It's like one of those dramatic Hollywood revenge movies where the hero climbs out of the rubble to defeat the villain but cause it's Indian it's got reincarnation and fucking amazing dance numbers. It has got some weird sexualisation,” he paused sighing in disappointment, “It's still pretty damn good though. Also, it's got SRK in.” He paused for a moment, shaking his head, and when he spoke again, his voice was choked, “Shah Rukh Khan is a wonderful specimen of a man.” 

Larissa raised an eyebrow. “I'm just gonna pretend I know who that is. Can I have a beer?”   
Shitty snorted and passed her the bottle he held “Good fucking question. I don't know. You can try though?” On the screen, a character sang dramatically at a billboard. Lardo took a swig of the beer and hummed thoughtfully.   
“Kinda weird. Like I’m remembering drinking it vividly? But I've never actually had it before, y’know? ‘S not that bad though.” She took another sip and kicked her legs up onto the sofa. 

“Psychic links, man,” Shitty commented, shaking his head, “Fucking weird. Yo, do you think you'd show up in mirrors?”  
“I'm not a vampire,” Larissa said derisively.   
“Yeah, but you are in my head! We should totally test this - do you have a reflection or not? C’mon -”

“- I think we’re being hunted,” Lardo interrupted him suddenly. Shitty stared at her, his excitement gone.   
“Dude. Mood-kill,” he said bluntly, “What do you mean, ‘hunted’?”  
Lardo took a deep breath before launching into an explain what she and Justin had seen in Lagos. She anxiously clenched and unclenched her fists as she talked, her words rapid and stiff. 

“And I could barely find anything about ‘LAX’ online. So yeah,” she finished lamely, picking at a spot of paint on her hand, “‘Hunted.’”  
Shitty let out a slow, shaky breath and sat back. “Fuck, that's not good.” 

“Nope,” Larissa agreed, her lips twisting bitterly, “I don't understand exactly what it means but it seems bad. I- I feel like it's familiar somehow. But in a way that my stomach sinks when I hear that name. Like, something really bad happened and it had something to do with LAX even though I can't quite put it together in my head.”   
“Yeah, I know exactly what you mean,” Shitty said, shivering involuntarily, “It’s like subconscious word association. I can't explain it but then again I can't explain half the shit that goes on these days.”

“Your law firm has stuff on lots of businesses, right?” Larissa asked quietly. The TV burbled on quietly, flashes of colour dancing unnoticed across the screen, “You said you did human rights cases and that meant you have access to loads of non-public records? You think you can look into it?”   
Shitty shrugged. “I'll try. There might be something on it - or at least some leads. They sound pretty off-the-grid though and unless they're known to violate the terms of Fair Trade then we won't have specialised stuff on them. But I will check.”

Larissa sighed. “Thanks. I'm glad you've got the same weirded-out feeling as well.”  
Shitty laughed and raised a beer bottle in her direction. “Can't let a bro get creeped out by evil corporations alone,” he told her. She grinned at him.   
“Damn straight,” she replied, tucking her feet under his, “So, tell me. Who exactly is Shah Rukh Khan?”


	6. Chapter 6

**Berlin**

Adam yawned as he jumped off the violently yellow subway train and onto the almost deserted platform. It’s only occupant was a red-headed man, perched on a row of seats, scowling at his computer. He glanced up at Adam in surprise, then quickly glanced around the platform. He sighed and closed his computer as Adam strolled over to him, raising his hand in greeting. 

“Hey, Will,” he said, and Will nodded absently at him, grimacing slightly as he took in the subway station.  
“You look grumpy,” Adam noted, dropping into the cold metal seat beside the other man, “What’s up?”

Will sighed again. “Derek is being an idiot.”  
Adam rolled his eyes and prepared for a long rant about their friend’s many annoying habits, and the snobbery of his university but Will stayed uncharacteristically silent as he scowled at his screen. After a long, uncomfortable moment, Adam asked, “So, what's he done now?”

Will glanced up, seeming surprised and then sighed, closing his computer.  
“You know how Justin was going through the list of places that LAX operates from? The one he found at the hospital?” Adam nodded, remembering his conversation with Justin, “Well, turns out they've got research labs at Cambridge university.” 

Will paused for a minute, letting his meaning sink it. “Oh crap,” Adam said, raising his eyebrows, “So he’s right by a bunch of LAX facilities?”  
Will’s scowl somehow deepened as he nodded. “He's being an idiot and refusing to leave until the term is over. Says it's only a week but….” He trailed off.  
“Still feels dangerous?” Adam finished for him. Will nodded in agreement. “I know what you mean, man. I worry about Justin, going in and out of that hospital where they've got their labs.”  
“I'm not worried about him,” Will snapped, “If he's gonna get himself killed, fine. Just don't drag the rest of us into it.”  
Adam rolled his eyes. “Sure bro, you aren't worried about Derek. That's why you look like you're going to break your computer if you aren't careful.” Will glanced down and quickly released his vice-like grip on the laptop. 

“Of course I’m worried,” he admitted grudgingly, “It feels like LAX is everywhere, y’know? Feels like they're closing in.”  
Adam nodded in agreement, his face becoming serious. A feeling of ominous dread coiled deep in his stomach, a feeling which always accompanied talk of LAX. “I guess we're lucky,” he allowed, sounding unsure, “We found out quickly that people were after us and that we needed to be careful. At least we know.”

“Others?” asked Will, “You really think there are other people who do what we can do?”  
“Gotta be, right?” Adam replied with a shrug, “With such a web of LAX stuff all over the world? It not just for us. Unless they're searching for people with other superpowers, of course. But it won't just be us they're after. We can't be alone.” 

Will gave a slight smile. “That would be nice, not being alone. I wonder if we could find them?” Then his expression soured, “Unless LAX managed to neutralise all of them.”  
Adam shook his head, “No way bro. They only found out who Bitty was cause of the blood test. There’s no way they get that many people. People like us, we’re out there. We just gotta find them.” 

A train pulled up just then and Adam sighed, standing up. “That's my cue to go,” he said, holding out his fist and bumping it against Will’s, “Don't want to be the crazy guy talking to no one on a train platform.”  
Will snorted as he turned back to his computer screen, “Crazy sounds about right for all of this.”  
Adam laughed. “Damn right,” he agreed as he sauntered towards the train, feeling a little brighter than before.

**Somewhere in Louisiana**

Bitty shrieked as he stepped into the bedroom to find a nearly-naked and extremely muscular man standing by his bed. Jack’s head jerked up and he twisted to look at Bitty in surprise. He blinked rapidly and glanced around the room in confusion but after a moment he gave a resigned sigh and turned to face Bitty. Jack was wrapped only in a towel, his hair still damp from the shower he’d clearly just climbed out of. Bitty took a deep breath and forced his eyes upwards, to Jack’s face, praying that he wasn't too red. 

“Jack!” he said slowly, “I wasn’t expecting you to turn up!” Jack gave a slightly crooked grin in response.  
“I wasn’t planning on it,” he admitted, gesturing to himself, “Not an ideal time. I’m glad to see you’re safe, though.”

Bitty gave a tense smile. “Yeah. I’m at a friend’s house upstate so hopefully, they won’t track me down. It’s not that far away, in the same state, but there’s nothing that will lead them here.”  
“Bittle, you know you can always come and stay with one of us if you aren’t safe here,” Jack said softly, “We’ve got your back.”  
Bitty scoffed, “I can’t drop everything and fly to Nigeria. I’m a student who bar tends, I can’t afford that sort of flight.” 

“I could,” Jack said quickly, then flushed. “Not that- I- I mean, Providence isn’t too far and I could help out if you need it.”  
Bitty smiled at Jack fondly, but dropped his gaze and sighed. “That’s very sweet of you Jack, but the last thing I want to do is lead them to you. Getting on a plane, travelling with all those cameras around, using my ID, seems like too much of a risk.” Jack opened his mouth to protest but Bitty looked pointedly at him. “Larissa agrees, so does Shitty. The best thing to do is lay low until it calms down.” 

“What if it doesn’t?” Jack said sharply. Bitty flinched slightly and Jack immediately reached out, touching his shoulder lightly in an attempt at comfort. “I mean- what if it doesn’t calm down quickly? These people are clearly dangerous.” He paused and sighed. “I just want to make sure you’re safe,” he said softly. Bitty looked up at him, meeting his intense stare which seemed to punch the air out of his lungs. 

He took in a shuddering breath and tore his eyes away from the blue gaze. “I know. But I’m done talking about it for now.” He forced a cheerier note into his voice as he told Jack, “You better follow me to the kitchen - I got plenty of stuff to feed you with.” He turned to glance back over his shoulder at the other man, still standing in a towel. “You wanna put a shirt on first?”

“Well, I’m not in my apartment,” Jack pointed out, “So unless we can somehow share clothes, which seems doubtful, and you’ve got something that fits me - which seems even more doubtful-” he was cut off by Bitty throwing a dishcloth at his head but caught it almost effortlessly chuckling. Bitty tried to suppress the small part of him that celebrated that answer, but the drops of water making their way down Jack’s chest from his still damp hair made that difficult. 

“Hush, you,” Bitty scolded good-naturedly, “No teasing people who give you pie, alright?”  
Jack worked his features into a serious expression. “Good point,” he said in a low voice, “I’ll wait until after you give me pie to make fun of your height, eh?”

Bitty humphed as he entered the kitchen, bereft of any more dishcloths. Jack followed him and laughed as he saw the several pies which graced the small kitchen counter, crowding together. “You’ve made enough to feed an army there, Bittle,” he said with a grin, “Struggling that much without twitter, eh?”  
“I wish I’d never told you about that,” grumbled Bitty as he rounded the kitchen counter, sticking his tongue out at Jack. “But yes, now that I’m not working, or using social media as Will advised, I do have a lot of time on my hands. I’ve been making jam as well, using my Aunt Judy’s recipe; that would drive my mama up the wall, she always insisted her method was better.” 

He paused as he grabbed a plate, sliding it over to Jack once he had deposited a generous slice of pie on it. As he handed over a fork he sighed, looking down at the pie reflectively. “I guess there are some benefits to being stuck on the run from an evil company that apparently wants to ‘neutralise me,’ whatever that means.”

“Bits,” Jack said quietly, truly serious now. Bitty looked up at him, caught up for what seemed like the hundredth time in Jack’s frustratingly hypnotic eyes. Jack leaned across the counter, putting his hand on Bitty’s shoulder, a grounding, warm weight which helped to hold down the panic that had been sitting uncomfortably in the pit of Bitty’s stomach constantly since he realised he was being followed.  
“You’ve got us, okay?” Jack told him, “All of us - no matter what we find out about LAX, no matter what happens. We’re on your team, and we will help you.”

The smile Bitty gave Jack then was completely genuine, and he hoped Jack couldn’t hear his heart thumping as loudly as he could. “I’m glad,” he admitted quietly, “I’m glad I don’t have to do this alone.”  
“I’m glad I can be with you,” Jack replied just as softly and smiled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I'm back! Exams are over so I can write a lot this summer, and this story is over half-way finished and I have plans to finish it by October (no promises). There has been a time jump as it was stagnating and I wanted to get the ball rolling towards the action and conclusion. So I bring you some sappy stuff as it's summer!
> 
> Thank you for reading, I really appreciate your comments and kudos! They keep me going!


	7. Chapter 7

**Providence**

Jack stumbled into his apartment, fumbling for the light switch, smile still wide on his face. He paused at the faint blue light emanating from around the corner. He took a few cautious steps, peering round to see Bitty curled up on his sofa, sleepily scrolling on his computer. Jack’s smile softened as he looked at the other man who hadn’t noticed him yet, taking in his rumpled hair and worn t-shirt, so different from his usual neat shirts and combed hair. The light from the computer cast strange shadows across his face and his eyelashes fluttered as he blinked at something on the screen. He shifted, and Jack’s breath caught as he noticed how short Bitty’s shorts were, only a slither of fabric. Bitty looked peaceful and it suited him.

Jack stepped forwards and the slight rustle of carpet made Bitty look up, eyes wide and panicked for a second but becoming soft as he recognised Jack.  
“Hey,” he said and Jack’s heart skipped a little in his chest as he realised how right the sight of Bitty on his sofa was, as if Bitty had been waiting for him to come home. “Hey,” he said hoarsely, kicking his shoes off and making his way to sit beside the other man on his sofa.

“You’re up late,” commented Bitty, shoving his laptop away and shifting to face Jack. Jack shrugged in response, reaching up and loosening his tie. Bitty’s eye followed the movement of his hands, and in the dim light, Jack could swear that he swallowed and bit his lip.  
“I was out with my team,” Jack explained, “We got to playoffs, so we were having a celebration.”  
Bitty’s face lit up as he heard the news and he leaned over, grasping at Jack’s hand. “Oh Jack, that’s wonderful. Well done.”Jack shrugged and looked away bashfully, his eyes sliding across the plain blue walls. His felt warm all over and wasn’t sure if it was the drink he had earlier or Bitty’s hand pressing into his palm.   
“It was a team effort. We all worked really hard and it paid off.”   
Bitty scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Don’t give me the reporter shtick, I’m in your head. Anyway, I’m proud of y’all.”

He squeezed Jack’s hand and Jack lost himself for a moment in Bitty’s warm smile. He shook himself slightly and nodded towards the dim computer screen. “What’s keeping you up so late?  
Twittering?” Bitty threw his head back and laughed and Jack grinned proudly, enjoying the sound.  
“Oh Lord, I refuse to believe that you don’t know it’s ‘tweeting’ in this day and age.”   
“Okay, I’ll confess I do know it’s tweeting,” he admitted, “I’m not as technologically-deficient as you think I am.”  
“You’re a cruel man, Jack Laurent Zimmermann, chirping poor ol’ tired me,” Bitty said with a yawn. Jack’s grin widened as he figured out how he could wake Bitty up. “I do actually have a twitter account, you know,” he confessed. Bitty’s widened and he gasped. He let go of Jack’s hand, pulling his computer back over and frantically searching for Jack’s twitter profile.

He laughed as it came up, gasping at the small blue verified icon beside his name, and began scrolling through the pictures and tweets.  
“These are all so old!” Bitty complained, “And impersonal! Do you actually run this?”  
Jack laughed. “No. The media team put stuff up for me usually. I kept forgetting when I was running it. I do take the photos that go up, though. I think Georgia was saying I should get one for just photos; what’s it called, an ‘instant-gran?’”

Bitty threw his head back and laughed openly. Jack chuckled at the bright, infectious sound, his stomach feeling suddenly tight as his eyes traced the curve of Bitty’s throat and the pink flush on his cheeks.  
“You’ll have to – what is it - follow me,” Jack joked, “That’s a big deal on twitter apparently.”  
“Like you need anymore, Mr. Twitter-famous,” Bitty scoffed but pressed the follow button anyway. Jack felt a momentary flare of panic, wondering if it was a bad idea to draw a real-world connection but he suppressed it, deciding to talk to Shitty about it later. “There you go, follower 198,731!”  
“You’re more important than all of them though,” Jack told him honestly, impulsively.

He looked over to see Bitty smiling softly at him, brown eyes tired and hair falling across his forehead. He turned back to the computer screen, wearing the same gentle expression as he looked through the photos on Jack’s account, taking them in one by one. Jack watched him silently, blue light casting strange, fuzzy shadows across Bitty’s face. Jack took in the curve of his lips, the cropped blonde hair around his ears, the slope of his nose which was covered in a light dusting of freckles.

Finally, Bitty spoke, eyes still glued to the computer screen. “I’m really glad I didn’t make you up,” he said quietly, almost a confession. Jack smiled at his profile and murmured his agreement. Bitty looked over at him in the darkness and smiled fondly, biting his lip.

After a long quiet moment, he yawned and blinked rapidly. “Oh, I am so sorry,” he said rapidly, pushing his computer away, “That is so rude of me! You’re not boring me, Jack, I swear.”  
Jack chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’re not being rude. Get some sleep, Bittle.”  
“Don’t use your Captain voice on me,” scolded Bitty but he closed his laptop and stood up, “You may have a point though. G’night, Jack.”  
“Night, Bittle. Sleep well.” Bitty paused for a moment, looking back at Jack pensively, but he was hit by another yawn and gave Jack another wave before moving away. Jack watched him go quietly, smiling softly to himself and letting himself indulge for a moment in the warmth and calm that Bitty always inspired. 

 

**Brighton**

Will scowled at him from the seat opposite and Derek rolled his eyes in response, carefully slipping on his headphones so he could talk on the train without looking insane. The British countryside slipped past, a blur of green and grey. 

“Glad to see you’re finally taking my advice and getting the hell away from LAX,” he remarked snarkily.  
“Aww, nice to see you were worried about me.”  
“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about the rest of us.”  
“I wasn’t going to get caught. The guys working in the DNA labs had no reason to even think about a random English student,” Derek repeated for what seemed like the hundredth time, rolling his eyes. It was a much-repeated argument. Will just glared at him and the pair lapsed into a tense silence. 

Eventually, Will spoke up. “Where are you even going now, anyway? Now you’ve finished your insanely important poetry course?”  
“It was important,” Derek snapped back, “Maybe you think it's dumb, but I’m not going to walk out on my degree half way through the year. I’ve put in way too much work to leave it all behind.”  
“More important than your life?” replied Will savagely. Derek looked up from his book, eyebrows raised in surprise, before sighing. 

After a moment he said, “I’m going home. To Brighton - it’s where my parents live. I grew up there. I’m surprised you didn’t know that.”  
“I knew you lived by the coast,” Will said, flushing slightly, “You didn’t tell me where exactly. Anyway, it’s not like I know where Brighton is.”  
Derek smiled fondly. “You’ll like it. It's a cool place. Lot’s of stuff going on, y’know?”  
“Can't be if it produced someone like you.”  
“Low blow, dude,” Derek laughed.  
“Your parents gonna be there?” The laughter quickly dropped away and Derek grimaced.  
“I doubt it. I haven’t seen them in a while, they’re usually away on business trips when I’m around.”  
“What, you don’t know?” Will asked curiously. Derek shook his head in response.  
“We haven’t talked in awhile.” 

The pair lapsed into silence. Finally, Derek spoke up cautiously. “So, you’re pretty freaked by all the LAX stuff, then?”  
“I’m not ‘freaked,’” Will protested sharply, “I’m just want to be cautious, okay? When you’re dumb, we’re all in danger.”  
Derek gave a huff of laughter. “Do you get at Bitty like you do me? He was just as close for longer. And they knew who he was.”  
“He got out when it got dangerous. And it wasn’t his fault - it’s not like he knew that the blood tests would bring LAX.”  
“It wasn’t my fault either! LAX were at my uni for ages; I only found out ‘cause Justin told me.”

Dex sighed heavily. “I know. But you stayed, right next door when you did know. You saw what they were prepared to do to Bitty, do you really want that?” He flushed slightly. “We have no idea what they’d do to us if they got one of us. So yeah, maybe I’m a bit freaked. We’re being hunted, and I’m freaked out! And you stood right there with them for 2 weeks, knowing what they were. Don’t tell me to ‘chill,’” he spat out, “Because they could hurt you - we know they would - and you did nothing! You didn’t care! A better question is why aren’t you freaked out?”

Derek was quiet for a long moment, looking down at his hands in his lap as a family moved past him on the train. Finally, he took a deep breath and admitted, “I am. I just don’t think running scared is going to help us.”

Will hadn’t noticed that the fields around them had turned into carefully partitioned gardens, glimpses of hundreds unfamiliar lives flashing by rapidly. Derek followed his gaze and smiled. “We’re almost there,” he commented as it steadily became more built up; roads bordering the tracks and buildings growing over the train rushing through, casting them into shadow. People and places that he’d never seen and would never see again rushed past in the blink of an eye; seeming to exist only momentarily. 

As the train slowed Will watched wordlessly as Derek grabbed his bag, throwing it over his shoulder, before wrestling the case down from the train carriage. He followed absently as Derek climbed off the train and made his way through the station.  
“It’s good that it’s so miserable and grey,” Derek muttered as he made his way out of the station, “As soon as it's sunny this place gets flocked with tourists coming down from London.”

 

Will made a noncommittal noise, watching Derek move through the streets of Brighton. It did seem like a nice place, Derek pointing out shops and restaurants he was familiar with. They all looked way out of Will’s price range and he rolled his eyes, but he bit his lip - not wanting to get in another argument; especially while Derek was in public and he was effectively non-existent. 

Finally, they rounded a corner and the wide grey sea stretched out in front of them. Derek continued walking, but Will paused for a moment, taking in the sight of a familiar ocean from an entirely new angle. He glanced at the beach and then stopped, frowning.  
“Wait, it’s just pebbles?  
Derek stopped and glanced back. “Yeah, man. It’s a rocky beach.”  
“You said loads of people came here when it got hot. Aren’t they disappointed?”  
“Can’t all have the sandy beaches of Santa Monica,” Derek said with a raise of his eyebrow, “There is some sand further along, but it’s not about that. It’s the stuff that’s here.” He paused, setting down his bag and leaning on the promenade railings, the wind whipping his hair around. Will stood by him, untouched by the breeze. “People just come here to enjoy the area. It’s usually too cold to swim apart from in hot summers, but everyone likes to sit by the sea, even if they don’t go in. People have been coming down here since the Victorian times, just enjoying the seaside atmosphere, walking along beach, taking it all in and not worrying about the stuff at home. People get fish and chips, and ice-cream, and go on rides. It’s the culture of the place rather than the geography of it, y’know?”

“Woah, that’s so cool!” Chris said beside them. Derek and Will both looked up in surprise. Chris gave the pair a quick wave as he leaned beside them, grinning out at the sea.  
“I’ve never seen the Atlantic before! Apart from in pictures and stuff, obviously. Never in person.”  
“Does this really count as in person?” Will scoffed, but Derek ignored him. He pointed to their left at a long pier.  
“That’s Brighton Pier. It’s one of the bigger touristy things. It’s got rides and games, and lots of food. The usual stuff. God, I must have been on there a thousand times.”  
“It looks awesome!” Chris exclaimed, “Has it been there since the Victorian era, then?”  
“Yeah, it was turn-of-the-century. West Pier was older though, but it burnt down ages ago.” 

Derek pointed to the right, at a dilapidated structure sitting far out to sea. Will’s blood instantly went cold at the sight. A sharp, horrified gasp came from Chris behind him. Even as he stared at the pier in the grey light of a cloudy midday, he could clearly see it in the dark. On a cold night, not many people around, as a boat made its way towards the sickeningly familiar structure, and a woman in white fell from it, dress billowing around her.

“I never.. I never realised the woman we saw fell from there,” Derek said shakily, “How did I not realise that? I've seen it so much!”  
“What does this even mean? Who was she?” Chris said softly, eyes wide and horrified.  
“You’re not safe here,” snapped Will, clutching the rail in front of him tightly as he stared at the burnt out shell standing in the middle of the ocean, “We aren’t safe anywhere. You were right, we can’t run.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wait, what's this? A chapter out less than a month after the last one? Wow, I may actually finish this within the foreseeable future at this rate! Anyway, as always I hope you enjoy and thank you for all your comments and kudos!


	8. Chapter 8

**Canada**

“Woah, bro,” Shitty exclaimed as he wandered into the room and stared around in amazement, “New place, huh? Being a professional hockey player has its perks!”  
“It does,” Jack said, smirking slightly over his cup of water, “That’s how my father afforded this place. It’s hardly new, I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”

Shitty gave a short laugh. “Right, got’cha. You visiting parents then?”  
Jack nodded in response. Shitty whistled in appreciation. “Lucky bugger. It’s pretty damn nice here.”

“I'm glad you're not naked this time round,” Jack commented and Shitty sighed.  
“Everyone says that and it's not fair. Let a man be free.”  
“Yeah, not in my house, alright? Also, we’re in Canada. You'd freeze here.”  
“Derek doesn't mind. He's artistically minded. And Lardo’s used to it at this point,” Shitty replied as he dropped back into sofa.  
“Y’all need to start appreciating there are other people in your head now. There are some things that I don't need to experience from you lot.” Jack grimaced as he remembered walking in on some rather uncomfortable scenes. 

Shitty laughed. “I got a lot of questions about that, but first off; y’all?”  
Jack flushed. “I've seen a lot of Bitty, it's starting to rub off on me.”  
Shitty cackled. “Oh yeah, I bet it is.”  
“What's that supposed to mean?”  
“Nothing, nothing. Just; I haven't started speaking in a British accent or using Vietnamese slang, y’know?” 

He bumped Jack’s shoulder, and Jack pushed back, giving a short bark of laughter. Within seconds it had developed into a wrestling match, with Jack easily getting Shitty into a headlock. 

“I concede defeat! I surrender!” Shitty said, flapping his hands and wheezing with laughter, “Let me go, y’absolute brute.”  
Jack dropped him with a wide grin. Shitty shook his head and combed his hair out of his face. “One day. You may be a peak specimen of a man, Zimmermann, but one day I’m gonna beat you. I played rugby at school, y’know; I can handle a tackle.”  
“Good luck with that. It's what, 5-0 now?”  
“4-0, the match where Pointdexter appeared does not count ya dick. He distracted me!”  
“I would have won anyway,” Jack said with a grin. Shitty rolled his eyes as he flopped back against the wall.  
“Yeah, of course, you would - professional athlete versus lawyer is not a fair match.” After a moment’s pause he spoke up again, “Speaking of being a professional athlete, you didn't get through to playoffs?”

Jack sighed, mouth twisting into a grimace as he looked away. “Yeah. It was disappointing – we played really well, just not well enough. I’ve been here before but it still sucks – to be so close to getting a proper shot at the cup, but to have it snatched away.” Shitty nodded in sympathy, sucking air through his teeth.  
“I guess there’s always next year?” he added tentatively. Jack gave a tight smile.

“Exactly. And if we can keep up our game up, we’ve got a great shot at winning. They’re good guys, I’m sure we can do it.” His smile became more genuine as he gestured around him. “Finishing earlier does mean I get to come up here for longer though, which is nice. It’s been too long since I’ve been home; being back in Quebec helps me clear my head.” His expression soured slightly. “Not to mention I get away from the reporters who always swarm after my team gets knocked out. I think they’re still waiting for me to break down, no matter how many times I prove I can cope.”    
Shitty scowled. “Fucking media. This place is certainly good for you, though. That’s the longest I’ve ever heard you go on for.” He gave Jack a wicked smile. “Could be Bitty really is rubbing off on you.” Jack took a threatening step towards Shitty who shot away, cackling.  
“How’s the parents anyway?” Shitty asked once he was sure Jack wasn’t going to try and wrestle him again, “Your father as much of a beaut as ever?”  
Jack rolled his eyes, ignoring Shitty’s strange love for Bad Bob. “They’re good. It’s just me and my dad at the moment, mama’s flying back from a meeting in France in a couple of days.”  
“Ah, I wish I could enjoy seeing my parents as much as you like seeing yours,” Shitty said with a dramatic sigh.  
“It took a long time. And lots of things unsaid before I started talking to them,” Jack admitted. He hesitated for a moment, before continuing, “I was thinking about telling them what’s going on. With me – I mean, us.”  
Shitty gave a low whistle through his teeth. “Yikes,” he said, drawing it out as he tilted his head to the side, thinking. “What brought that on?”  
Jack paused, toying with the coat he held. “I want them to know what’s happening in my head,” he finally explained, “If there ends up being trouble with LAX- or anything really, I want them to know what’s happening. And I don’t want to hide things about myself from the people who are important to me; I’ve done that before and it didn’t go well.”  
“Fair enough,” Shitty said with a shrug, “Maybe talk to Chris about it; he’s the only one of us who’s told someone everything about what’s happening. He might know how to make it sound less insane. Hey, if you need someone to skype to prove its all real, I’m your bro, bro.”  
Jack laughed. “You promise to wear clothes throughout the whole conversation?”  
“I never make promises I can’t know for certain I’ll keep.” Jack made an exaggerated face of disgust as Shitty laughed loudly, throwing himself down onto the sofa.  
“God this place is nice. You can hear the sea and shit,” he commented, looking up at the high wooden ceilings and the homely furnishings, “It’s like a spa or something. I need a place like this to escape to. Jack smiled slightly but stayed silent as Shitty threw his head back and breathed deeply. “There’s been so much stuff to do lately with work and it’s been bumming me out big time. We’ve been trying to get kids out of work and into school but I just don’t know how we’re gonna manage it. And every time we solve one problem, help one person or stop one company from exploiting people, a bunch more come up.” He dropped his head in his hands and groaned. “It’s like an endless tide of shittiness. Why are people so crap?” 

“I don’t know,” Jack replied, “Some people just are, I guess.”  
“Shit man, I don’t mean to bum you out. I mean you’ve got enough going on with your sports stuff and this whole LAX business. Which is also freaking me the fuck out. They’re a multi-national company but there’s zilch on them apart from a few locations they’re renting. Nothing. Nada. I’m good at digging shit up; it’s what I do for a living. But LAX? Who the hell knows?” 

He paused for a moment and then sighed. “Gotta be honest with you Jack, it’s not looking good. I have no idea where to start with this. Who the hell are they? What the hell are we?”

It wasn’t something Jack knew how to answer, so he stayed silent.

 

**New Orleans/Hong Kong**

Bitty’s face lit up as Chris wandered into his kitchen. He smiled widely at the other man, putting down the dishcloth he had been clutching and walking over to hug Chris. Chris hugged him back and inhaled deeply. 

“Are you cooking something?” he asked, looking around at the piles of dishes scattered across the counter, “It smells amazing!”  
Bitty looked pleased as he replied, “I’ve got a couple of pies in the oven - if you can stick around you can try some when it finishes.”  
Chris grinned widely. “That would be awesome,” he exclaimed but his face fell slightly as he asked, “How would that even work though?”  
Bitty shrugged. “I'm still not sure how any of this works. However, Adam said that when he tried Justin’s food it felt like he was remembering the taste of the meal rather than eating it straight away.”  
“That sounds weird,” Chris mused, “As long as I stay that long, I'll give it a go. I just got back from a track event on Lantau but Caity isn't back yet so I'm free for now.” 

“How is Caitlin?” Bitty asks and grins as Chris’ face lights up.  
“She's doing so well. She's got her final exams coming up but she's so on top of everything right now!” he explains excitedly, “It's gonna be so cool to be dating someone with a doctorate. She's still finding these connections kind of disconcerting but I think she's less worried than before.”

Bitty snorted. “Honestly? I'm still finding it a little disconcerting.”  
“It is a bit strange,” Chris remarked, “But pretty awesome as well!”

“I have to disagree there,” Bitty said with a bitter smile, “I got stuck with Adam and Justin binge-watching Netflix when I was trying to get some work done. It's like having even more annoying roommates and these are inside my head. Those boys don’t stop bickering about TV!” 

Chris laughed. “Okay, yeah. I can see how that can get annoying.” He flushed slightly, “Don't tell them I said that!”  
“I won't,” Bitty reassured him, turning to the kitchen counter. He picked up the cutting board he'd been washing and propped it against the wall. “It's not all bad though,” he mused, “I've seen Jack a lot lately which has been nice.”

“Oh, yeah! Jack is really cool!” Chris agreed enthusiastically, “He was showing me some of his pictures of a park which were so good! You wouldn't expect someone so athletic to be so good at photography - I know I'm not!”  
“I was there for that shoot,” Bitty said with a smile, focused on putting cutlery away, “The ones with the duck pond? It was good fun.”  
“You guys are super close,” Chris commented, “Almost like Justin and Adam. Or Derek and William - but you know, less angry about it. It's nice that you guys are such close friends!” 

Bitty bit his lip, pausing for a moment as he remembered Jack experimenting with lenses, talking excitedly about how the light and exposure changed the atmosphere as a picture. He fought back a grin as he recalled Jack’s teasing when Bitty had described his coffee order, only to be returned when Jack ordered plain black coffee. Bitty couldn't help the butterflies in his stomach as he remembered Jack’s shy smile as he told Bitty, “I hope I can actually take a photo of you one day. This light really suits you.” 

“Yeah,” Bitty agreed with Chris, feeling himself go pink, “He's a good friend.”  
Chris frowned curiously at him and opened his mouth to ask something but a sharp rap on the front door interrupted him. Bitty’s head shot up and he dropped the whisk he had just picked up. 

“That will be my package!” he said triumphantly, moving towards the door, “God, I hate having to wait in all day but apparently none of the maple syrup in the supermarket was good enough for Mr Zimmermann so he sent me the ‘proper stuff’!”

Chris gave a short laugh as Bitty opened the door only to be met by two tall men in black suits. He began to ask a question but was cut off by a black fabric hood descending startling quickly over his head. 

Bitty opened his mouth to shout but the pressure of a hand cut him off. He felt the cold press of a needle at his neck and grabbed at the hand, digging his nails in but he could already feel numbness spreading out from where the needles entered his skin. It spread down his shoulder quickly, making his muscles twitch and weaken, his hand dropping from his attacker’s hand as the numbness climbed up his neck and plunged him suddenly into darkness.


	9. Chapter 9

Bitty woke up with a start. His hands scrambled at the metal surface he was lying on and he sucked in a panicked breath. The surface jolted underneath him, throwing him to one side. He crashed into a metal wall and gasped in pain. As he struggled to sit upright, he heard a familiar voice. 

“Where the hell is this?”  
“I - I don't know,” he said, trying to crawl over to the source of the sound but his arms barely held his weight, “Larissa - is that you?”  
“Yeah, Bitty! What's going on?” she replied, shuffling sounds filling the enclosed space, “Is this a car? Why is it so dark?”  
Bitty shook his head and held back a sob. “I don't know! Someone grabbed me and now I'm here. I- I think I'm in a van? I don't know!”

His breathing became panicked as he banged against the walls. He heard Larissa swear slightly and after a moment of quiet shuffling, two hands closed over his own.  
“Do you know if it's LAX?” she asked quietly as Bitty shuddered.  
“Yes. You said they were after me. I wasn't careful enough,” he said, his voice speeding up as he spoke, “I should have been more careful! I don't know where I am - I could be anywhere! I don't even know how long I've been here!” 

“Nearly eight hours,” said a hoarse voice, cutting through the darkness, “It's been nearly eight hours since you got taken.”  
“Jack,” Bitty gasped and moved towards the source of the voice, one hand still clutching at Larissa’s. After a moment of blind fumbling, he grasped a warm forearm and felt two hands clutch at his elbows.  
“I thought you were dead,” Jack said, sounding strained, “I kept trying to contact you but there was nothing - I - I didn't know if you were alive for eight hours! Are you hurt?”  
“I'm fine,” Bitty reassured him, only half lying. His limbs were still sluggish but apart from small, stinging scrapes and bruises, he seemed mainly unharmed. He leaned towards the warmth of Jack, letting Lardo’s fingers slip from his grip. 

“I'm gonna go tell Shitty what's going on,” she said quickly, snapping the men out of their reverie. “We need to figure out how to get you out of this, Bits. Just know we’re all behind you.” She paused, “We’re a team.” 

Her presence was replaced by silence, leaving just Jack and Bitty kneeling together, their breaths mingling.  
“She's right,” Jack murmured, resting his forehead against Bitty’s gently, “We need figure out what's going on here. So we can get you out.”  
Bitty bit his lip and sighed. “What if this is the sort of thing I don't get out of?” 

Jack's grip on his arms tightened at Bitty’s words and he inhaled sharply.  
“Don't say that,” he snapped, “Don't you dare - don't give up.”  
“I'm not,” Bitty insisted, trying to still his trembling, “I just can't let them get to any you.” His breathing sped up. “I can't let them hurt you, Jack, but I don't know what to do!”

Jack brought his hand up to cup Bitty’s face in the darkness, gently stroking his thumb across the blond man’s cheek. When he spoke, his choked voice was almost shaking with intensity.  
“There is no way in hell I'm going to let them touch your mind,” he told Bitty firmly, “Alright? I'm not going to let them hurt you.” 

Bitty leaned forwards in the darkness, bringing his hand’s up to Jack’s face to guide him. Blindly, he pressed his lips to Jack’s, feeling the other man fall suddenly still against him. Bitty moved away, his cheeks heating up and apologies already forming on his lips but they were wiped away by Jack crushing his mouth against Bitty’s. Bitty gasped into the kiss and clutched the sleeves of Jack’s coat, pulling him forwards. It felt like an eternity, Jack’s hand coming up to cradle Bitty’s head as they kissed in the darkness of a bumpy van. 

They separated as the van jolted slightly, Bitty’s hand steadying Jack as the taller man lost his balance. They both breathed deeply, foreheads pressed against each other. All of a sudden, a voice cut through the darkness causing the pair to break apart.  
“Yo, Bits? I heard there was trouble?” Adam said as he squinted into the dimness, “Lardo said you needed a hand breaking out of somewhere?” 

Jack sighed in obvious relief and Bitty squeezed Jack’s hand as he replied.  
“I'm trapped in a van, I think. How the hell are you supposed to get me out of a moving vehicle?”  
Adam gave a quiet laugh. “You'd be surprised. I’ve done bits and pieces of special forces trading - and being on security details means I've picked up a lot of weird stuff over the years. Whatever they're doing, it's shoddy work. You're not even tied up.” Jack made Pained sounds and Adam grimaced. “Sorry, that's a good thing. This is an American van, right?”  
“Yeah. Why?”

“A couple of years ago I was talking to a guy trying to get new safety features fitted in German vehicles,” Adam explained as he scrabbled around the floor near the door of the van, “He mentioned that most modern American vans always have their door release cables exposed so that-” he paused, feeling around the floor, “So that if you do get locked in you can just,” he fell silent for a moment, fingers scrabbling around. “Ah there! Just hang on to something.” Bitty grabbed a grate on the van’s side and clutched at it. “So you can just do this!” 

At Adam’s words, the doors swung quickly open, banging loudly against the side. Bitty flinched away from the entrance where bright lights and noise rushed by, terrifyingly fast against the night sky.  
“You really have a flair for the dramatic,” Jack commented, his hand still warm on Bitty’s forearm. Adam hummed happily in response. “Been in a lot of musicals. Best damn tenor in the Forces’ Christmas pantomimes.”  
“So what happens now?”

“They'll pull over in just a second,” Adam explained. “Can't drive with unsecured doors and they'll see them in the side mirrors. As soon as they slow down enough, jump out and run. Are you fast?”  
Bitty nodded slightly but paused. “I - I don't think I can run right now,” he admitted shakily. He felt Jack’s hand tighten anxiously on his arm before a familiar voice cut through the darkness. 

“I do cross-country running. I've got this,” Chris said, sounding uncharacteristically intense. Bitty’s head spun as he felt his muscles clench without him meaning to as his body lowered into a crouch. 

True to Adam’s words the van slowed, swerving to the side away from traffic as it came to a halt. The tires screeched as it slowed and Bitty heard Jack yell “go!” as the world outside the truck came into focus instead of a fast blur. Bitty felt himself scramble out of the still moving van, hitting the ground painfully hard but not slowing.

He was on a freeway. The streetlights were neon and painfully bright by illuminated the hard shoulder he ran along. Chris quickly fell into an easy rhythm as headlights flashed by, impossibly fast. Bitty heard an angry shout from behind him but didn't look back, instead letting Chris move his legs forwards, fast and coordinated. 

The road was completely flat and the air was stiflingly hot and dry as Bitty spun off down a narrow walkway between two tall buildings. Two people jumped out of his way as he raced past. His head spun, the world was a rush around him but his legs continued moving, seemingly of his own accord.

As he emerged from the darkness onto the bright street, he hit a wall of people rushing by. Bitty stumbled backwards slightly and he felt the energy drain from his muscles as his connection with Chris shattered. He stumbled forwards into the crowd, deciding it was better to get lost in chaos than being found dithering. 

As he was swept along a crowded sidewalk, Bitty squinted and looked around him. Above him rose tall, glistening buildings that were strangely dramatic yet unfamiliar. His breathing quickened with fear as he unsteadily moved forwards. 

Beside him, William suddenly said, “Hey, I'm here.”  
Bitty breathed a sigh of relief as he felt the taller man press closer, walking beside him. He caught a flash of red hair and pale skin out of the corner of his eye. He sighed in relief and the noises of the crowd seemed momentarily dimmer, replaced by the quiet of Will’s room.

“We need to figure out where you are. I’m online at the moment and if we can get an exact location we can find somewhere safe,” Will explained. Bitty nodded and gave a desperate laugh. 

“I'm trying. I don't recognise anything though. I could be anywhere.” He shook his head desperately and winced. “I- I can't think! My head- LAX- whatever they gave me-” 

He trailed off as he felt a familiar prescience appear by his other shoulder.  
“Bits, you need to take a deep breath,” Jack told him calmly, his voice strained but in control, “You're alright. You're in a busy city area - that makes it easier. I need you to read some of the street and shop names, alright?” 

Bitty nodded and groped behind him, grasping Jack’s fingers. Jack squeezed his hand gently as Bitty cast his eyes around. 

“There's a sign saying the road I'm on is intersecting by Park Avenue,” he muttered as people hurried across the crossing. “I can't quite see-” he tilted his head, trying to spot the other sign. As he caught the name he gasped and then gave a shocked laugh. “I'm on Las Vegas Boulevard. I'm in Las Vegas and I'm on the Strip.” 

Bitty heard both Jack and Will sigh in relief. There was the faint noise of a keyboard and Jack’s voice excitedly saying, “I know people in Vegas - I can phone him- see if he can get-” before someone careened drunkenly into Bitty, breaking his concentration and their faint connection. Bitty gasped as he found himself alone and forced into a new stream of people, heading upstairs to an overhead crossing. 

The lights of Vegas were overwhelming. Everywhere Bitty looked there was neon and flashing colour, ever present and glaring through the bustling streams of people. Even without the shoving, unrelenting crowds of the Strip, the Nevada heat alone was claustrophobic. The air felt like a blast of heat from a just opened oven door yet surrounded him, pushing Bitty down and making him gasp. Every sense was screaming, head spinning as music pumped through the air, intermingled with loud drunken voices. Still, Bitty pushed on.

To the people gathered on the sidewalk, drunk both on the glitz and glamour of Las Vegas and excessive amounts of alcohol, Bitty must have looked like just another reveller, stumbling his way to the next casino. The crowds parted reluctantly, shoving and swearing as he pushed through, tripping over uneven concrete and slippery leaflets scattered across the ground. A hand grasped at his wrist and he pulled it away violently, clenching his fists and spinning round to see a confused looking girl giggling manically. He flinched away, stumbling onwards, even as her loud, slurred apology followed him. 

“Jack? Will?” Bitty muttered uncertainly, glancing behind him for what seemed the millionth time, only to be met with another unfamiliar press of bodies, “Are you still there? I really need help – now, please!”

The shouting and the traffic of Las Vegas faded momentarily as the clacking of a keyboard filled Bitty’s ears. Bitty drank in the quiet calm of the office, trying to stop the world swaying while he still had a chance. 

“I'm trying my best. I can't figure out where you are though,” Will said, hunched over his computer which was the only source of light in the room, hands moving quickly. He frowned at the screen, his expression lit strangely by the blue light. “Can you find something you recognise? Or something iconic?”

Bitty blinked as he took in the sight and found himself back on the Strip, being carried up a flight of stairs onto an elaborate bridge that tossed the street. The sensations of the noise and the heat rushed back to him, dizzying and oppressive.

“I don't know anything 'round here!” he choked out as he hurried along with the crowd, weaving around small groups of drunken loiterers.  
“What can you see?” Jack’s voice came, clear and calm amongst the chaos. Bitty glanced to the side and saw the other man striding beside him, forehead etched in a deep frown and the glittering blue light of a casino dancing strangely across his skin. He held his phone tightly, knuckles white.  
“I- I don't know! There, there are too many people!” Bitty replied, disorientated and exhausted. Jack looked at him, face pale and panicked.  
“Bitty. Take a deep breath. Look up,” he instructed, voice commanding and steady despite the desperation clear in his eyes. 

Bitty ripped his eyes away from Jack’s face and stepped out of the streams of moving people, moving up towards the glass sides of the bridge. Las Vegas Boulevard stretched out endlessly below him, a never-ending rushing river of white and red specks of light. Amongst the shouting and the grating music and the flashing adverts and casino signs, he began to make out clear features. 

“There's – uh, I’m on a bridge near a casino called Bally’s, I think? It's got a huge red sign. I can see - there's another bridge and then there's, um, a hot air balloon? It's blue and all lit up and then there's-” he paused and gave an incredulous laugh, “-I can see the Eiffel Tower! It's- wow-” Bitty paused for a long moment, drinking in the sight of Vegas, full of light and sound and colour. 

“If I live through this I'd like to come back here,” he said reflectively, quiet and half to himself. He felt Jack draw in a sharp breath beside him and gave a sad smile, his eyes dropping away from the view as he leaned on the concrete edge of the bridge. His breath misted the Perspex in front of him as he quietly admitted, “I wish I could have come here before- before all of this happened.” 

He glanced up at Jack and gave a bittersweet smile. The world seemed almost silent compared to the hustle of earlier, the quiet of Providence blending seamlessly with the chaotic brightness of Vegas. Bitty stared up at Jack who seemed frozen, staring back down at Bitty with a broken expression lit both by the harsh neon of Vegas and the gentle light of the Providence streets. “There's a lot I wish I'd done, really,” Bitty confessed softly, not taking his eyes off Jack’s face. 

The moment of calm was shattered by Will’s voice, breaking a barrier and allowing the sights, scenes, and smells of Vegas to rush back and knock Bitty into the crowd.  
“I think I know almost exactly where you are. You're on a bridge between Bally’s and a place called the Bellagio.”  
Bitty heard Jack repeat the words as he hurried through the crowd, moving down a different flight of concrete stairs. A tinny voice replied, incomprehensible as if it was coming through a phone. 

“The Bellagio fountains?” Jack said clearly, “Dex? Can you get him there? By the fountains?”  
“I- uh, yeah- that's near,” Will replied and the instructed, “Bitty – go to the sidewalk on the opposite side of the Eiffel Tower but walk towards it. There's a lake there – Jack says help is on its way.”

Bitty felt like crying with relief as he finally moved through the crowd with a sense of purpose, moving seamlessly with the partiers as they streamed across the road. He heard Jack’s voice, strained but distance as he said, “Yeah. He’ll be there in a few moments, are you almost there? Okay.”

Jack’s clear, accented voice faded, mingling with the background noise of Vegas, as Bitty spotted the lake in front of him. His focus snapped to it, watching the rise and fall of the fountains, the sides surrounded by people watching in awe. He moved steadily towards it; completely focuses and ignoring the people rushing by, the loud music and light shows surrounding him, the buskers and performers who dotted the street, and even the black van pulling up beside him. It wasn't until a hand grabbed his shoulder, forcefully spinning him around, that he looked up at the black-suited figure of an LAX agent. 

He pulled away violently, stumbling backwards into another body - not an unsteady reveller but an unmoving LAX agent. He let out a desperate shout, quickly muffled by a white-gloved hand as the other arm snaked around his waist. 

The first agent stepped forwards, quick and efficient - easily catching Bitty’s flailing arm. The sharp prick of a needle on his upper arm made Bitty kick harder, giving out a desperate muffled scream for help. Around the three of them, no one reacted - too caught up in their own drunken merriment to properly notice their surroundings. 

Bitty heard Will swear loudly as Bitty struggled helplessly in the LAX agent’s iron-like grip. His eyes were wide, panicked as he stared around the street - searching for someone to help him, desperate for them to notice and make eye contact.

Instead, he found himself staring at Jack. The man seemed out of place in the loud, chaotic Las Vegas street; dressed in sweatpants and a loose blue t-shirt as if he had been ripped from his bed. The golden light of the fountains made him look radiant, Bitty noted - thinking as if he was separated from himself by a great distance, which in a way he was. 

Hazily, Bitty drank in how beautiful Jack seemed even though his expression was shattered - eyes wide and desperate, mouth open in a wordless cry as he stepped towards Bitty, phone clattering to the ground. Bitty stared at him, unable to articulate the mess of emotions and unable to even speak them if he could. 

Then someone out of his sight suddenly wrenched the agent’s arm away from Bitty’s mouth. 

Bitty fell away from his attacker, hitting the concrete ground hard and rolling onto his back, desperately gasping for air that rushed out of him on impact. Despite the ache of his ribs, he scrambled to his hands and knees, looking up as strangers in black and white pulled the LAX agents away from him. 

Whatever he had been injected with seemed to be slowing his thoughts in an all too familiar way, the world around him becoming a blur of light and dark. The were shouts, both of pain and anger and excitement. Bitty didn't know where they were coming from - right above him or thousands of miles away. 

He saw red blood spatter the concrete beside him and flinched away, trying to move through the throng of people around him to safety. He saw a man in a black suit hit the ground violently, the thud seeming to echo around him. The man scrambled to his feet, stepping away from the mystery attackers. Bitty watched, still crouched defensively on the ground, as the two agents climbed fluidly back into the black van and disappeared into the stream of traffic as if they had never been there. With a growing feeling of dread, Bitty looked up at his mysterious saviours. 

Three men stood above him, peering down with clear concern written on their faces. Even as Bitty struggled to take in their appearances - tall, muscled in matching black tops, each with the same white logo that blurred in Bitty’s ever-failing vision - he became aware of how he must look. His clothes crumpled and spattered with mud, his hair a mess that fell into his eyes, the cuts and bruises on his face clearly visible as well as the blood crusted around his nose, and not to mention the dark circles under his eyes. Embarrassment flooded through him, simple and easy against the mixture of fear, panic and angry adrenaline which had filled him for so long. As the shortest of the men knelt down beside him, Bitty felt his energy fade and he flinched away.

A face came into focus - clear eyes, sharp features and pale blond hair hidden under a black cap, tilted to the side yet with an ace of spades still clear by the brim. The guy raised an eyebrow as he took in Bitty, looking him up and down with a mix of shock and curiosity written across his face.

“Those assholes really did a number on you, huh?” he drawled, still knelt beside Bitty on the sidewalk. One of the men beside him muttered something and he shrugged as he stood. “Nah man, manners are overrated. Still, I should probably introduce myself.” He held out a hand to help Bitty up, the other clutching an expensive looking phone. “Kent Parson, Captain of the Las Vegas Aces. Come with me if you want to live.” He smirked proudly before remarking, “God, I've always wanted to say that.”

Bitty stared up at Kent Parson in confused horror, not sure if he had the strength to take the hand and stand up. He felt a gentle press on his shoulder, helping to prop him up. Turning his head sharply, Bitty saw Jack kneeling beside him, expression open and tender. When he spoke, his voice was full of unconcealed relief.

“Bitty - Kent’s a friend. I sent him, you can trust him; I promise.” He paused for a moment, intensely staring into Bitty’s face before saying firmly, “You're safe now.”

Bitty turned back to the Las Vegas Aces, Kent still holding out his hand. He took in the three men, the neon lights of Vegas blurring around them to form halos. “Oh, thank the Lord,” he breathed quietly as his arm gave out and he quietly fell away into unconsciousness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, this took forever. i've started uni recently and it has been a very intense workload/life change so writing kind of got pushed to the side. I'll try and get a couple of more chapters done in the break: we're not far from the end folks!


	10. Chapter 10

**37,000 feet above Nebraska**

Bitty woke with a start, gasping as he shot upright in the bed. At which point he immediately curled up into a ball and groaned, pain throbbing through every part of him.

"Yeah, you might wanna be careful about movement for a bit. You got pretty fucked up by those weirdos, both inside and outside. Doctors said there'd be no permanent damage; just a few bad bruises and a what's basically a killer hangover."

Bitty's head jerked up and he was immediately overcome by a wave of nausea as his eyes struggled to focus on the figure in front of him. The man was lounging back in the plush leather armchair in front of him, expensive-looking phone in one hand and the other stroking a ridiculously fluffy white cat curled up on his lap. He would have looked almost like a Bond villain if it wasn't for the snapback and hockey jersey. Bitty recognized him instantly as the man who had knelt beside him on in the street in Vegas, the one who claimed to be Jack's friend. 

"Who are you? Where am I? What happened?" Bitty managed to croak out, his stomach still heaving. The guy frowned and tilted his head. "Wait- you do remember what happened right? Like your memory isn't too fucked up?"  
"I remember you were in Vegas. Then I passed out," Bitty explained, struggling to stop his annoyance from leaking into this voice, "Just nothing makes sense."  
"Ah." Kent Parson- the name came back to Bitty then- sat back in his chair with relief, "That's fine then." Bitty was inclined to disagree. "Basically, I'm Jack's old friend and he called me with a super weird and specific request to get me and a bunch of guys out of the bar where I'd just been Instagramming drinks, and down to where he swore his friend would be any minute, in really bad shape. And there you were, literally being kidnapped. It was brutal."

"Yes, I'm aware." A spike of pain went through Bitty's head and he dropped back onto the sofa which he was laid out on with a groan. Several soft pillows had been placed underneath his head and a blanket had been thrown over him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bin placed strategically by his head and felt slightly relieved. He still didn't know where he was but it seemed fancy and he did not want to throw up whatever was still left in his stomach onto the rather beautiful carpet. 

"Yeah, I wouldn't want to be you, man," Kent agreed sympathetically, "Anyway, we dragged you to the hospital straight away and the doctor said you'd be alright just unconscious for about four hours. We had that syringe that the suited dudes had and it was just a general sedative but weirdly it was calculated perfectly for your body weight. You are clearly in some deep shit; I don't even want to know who those guys are." Bitty raised his eyebrows in a silent consensus.

"We were gonna leave you there, but Jack was super insistent we get you to him as soon as possible. He was frantic, man, kept saying he couldn't get through to you or something and I was just like 'Uh... duh, he's unconscious and even if he wasn't, he doesn't have a phone-"  
"Please, can you tell me where I am," Bitty asked irritably. Kent looked surprised, and then slightly chastised.  
"Oh, yeah. Sorry. You're on a plane. Flying over- um, Nebraska or Iowa? On the way to Montreal."

It took great effort but Bitty did manage to turn his head to look around. Pain rattled around his skull and a magnet seemed to pull him back down to the pillow, but he noticed how tube-shaped the room was, with small round windows, glimpses of blue outside.  
"Huh," he said, "Never flown before. Definitely, not in a private jet."

"Jack was super insistent about using a discreet service," Kent explained, "It's pricier than I'd usually go but he promised to pay me back and it was available. I'm kinda enjoying it; they give you champagne and I got to bring Kit which is always a plus." He scratched the cat's ears smiling at her fondly. 

They lapsed into silence and Bitty took the opportunity to close his eyes, enjoying the darkness. When he opened them, he saw Justin watching him closely with Lardo perched on the arm of the sofa. 

"Hey, nice to see you're alive," Lardo said with a gentle smile, "We really thought we might lose you for a bit there."  
"Are you feeling okay?" Justin asked, looking Bitty up and down, "Does anything severely hurt when you move it?"  
Bitty gave a weak laugh. "Everything aches. And I've got a killer headache," he muttered, hoping Kent was too caught up in his phone to notice. He wasn't.  
"Yeah sorry about that dude," he said with a shrug which failed to come across as truly sympathetic, "Doc said you had to work the drugs outta your system before you could take painkillers or anything else. So, no aspirin yet."  
Bitty ignored him. "It's fine," he assured Justin, "I'll survive." 

"Jack's finally asleep - that's why he's not here," Lardo explained, answering the question before Bitty could even ask.  
"We had to basically force him to get some rest. He'd been awake for over a day and was gonna wait up until you got in but we convinced him he needed to be well rested when you got in," Justin said, rolling his eyes.  
"Shitty threatened to fly out there and cuddle Jack until he fell asleep," Lardo added with a snicker, "He was trying to get Will to go and they had a massive argument about how geography works in the USA." Bitty gave a quiet laugh.  
"He only agreed cause he gave Shitty's number to Kent and they've been texting about you while you're asleep. He's been super worried."  
"We all were," Justin said and Lardo reached down and grasped Bitty's hand who smiled at them and squeezed Lardo's hand reassuringly. He suddenly became aware of Kent staring at him and jumped. Kent shook his head. 

"You are weird," he said, "Jack's been weird. This whole thing is weird. I don't know what the hell has been going on-"  
"Oh here we go," sighed Justin and Lardo made a noise of agreement.  
"I don't think I can explain," began Bitty cautiously. Kent shook his head.  
"Can't or won't, I don't wanna know. All I know is that Jack called me saying that he was scared he was going crazy and then next I hear from him, he wants me to swoop in and save some cute blond kid from getting kidnapped by guys in suits. I've seen him in a bad state before and this isn't it, but I have no clue what's going on with him."

Kent sighed. "I've got stuff on my own plate. Whatever all this weird stuff is, I don't really wanna know. But I care-" he paused and his shoulder's slumped, "I cared a lot about Jack. He looked directly a Bitty, "A lot. And he clearly cares a lot about you. You're important to him. I just wanna know that you're not gonna hurt him and that whatever he's going through, you're gonna support him. Cause I can't anymore."

Bitty paused, surprised at Kent's sudden, uncharacteristic seriousness. "I won't hurt him," he promised carefully, "And I'm with him through all of this, I don't think I can't be. But I can promise that I'm a-" he paused momentarily, "I'm a friend. We're on the same side."

Kent stared intently at him and Bitty swallowed, anxiety crawling up his throat. "I can't promise he won't get hurt though. It's bigger than us and I can't protect them."  
Kent looked at him for a few moments longer before sitting back and snorting. "Dude, you can't even protect yourself properly. I'm not gonna hold you to that." 

**Montreal**

There had been a car waiting in the airport, right outside the plane. It was dark and unobtrusive, expensive but not flashy. Kent had shoved a juice box into his hand and then shoved him into the car, waving him off. The driver had been polite but not chatty; a massive relief to Bitty who had slept fitfully until the car had pulled up outside what was basically a mansion. He froze, suddenly terrified of seeing Jack. 

A man rushed out and opened the car door. Bitty blanched for a moment, thinking it was Jack but there was grey in this man's hair and deep laugh lines around his eyes. He gave Bitty a kind smile as he climbed out of the car.

"You must be Eric Bittle, right? You're the one who's been worrying my son sick then," He said. His tone was jovial, not at all bitter. "Kind of understandably, you look like crap. No offence, kiddo."  
"None taken. I feel it," replied Bitty, blinking in the sudden glare of sunlight. He held out his hand politely, "You must be Mr- um, Jack's dad."  
The man grinned as he shook it. "Yup, that's me. Mr Jack's Dad. You can call me Bob, though. Let's get you inside."

The house itself was massive, though not overly ostentatious. It had a home-vibe with its large wooden floors and rafters. Bitty recognised one room from a conversation with Jack, the one with massive windows overlooking a lake which sparkled in the sunlight. Bob led him to the kitchen and he gasped at the sight of the large marble counter-tops and modern, new-looking ovens and hobs. The things he could do with a kitchen like that…

"Oh, good. You're here," said a tall, willowy blonde woman in an American accent who sat at a large, rustic table. Bitty was beginning to feel dwarfed by everything here, including the people. "I'm Alicia, it's so good to meet you. Jack's talked a lot about you." She glanced at Bob, "Though we don't know much about how you two met or anything."

"Jack's still asleep but he'll be up soon," Bob interjected, quickly changing the subject, "He's really gonna be happy to see you."  
"You're here," said Jack from beside him, staring at Bitty in wonder, "Crisse- you're here and you're safe and you're talking to my parents. I'll be- just wait-"  
"I think he might be awake," Bitty said automatically and then blanched, blushing, "I mean- Kent-" There was the thudding of heavy footsteps down the stairs and Alicia raised an eyebrow.  
"You were right," she said carefully, meeting Bob's gaze again. 

"Bittle," said Jack breathlessly from the doorway. Bitty turned to look at him and caught his breath. He'd seen Jack so many times but this- this was different. To really see him, dressed in grey pyjamas, his hair a dark mess and eyes that familiar piercing blue, and his face a look of shock and wonderment that Bitty was sure matched his, was so, so much more intense. 

The world seemed to narrow down to just them, Bob and Alicia and the kitchen all disappearing. Then he was in Jack's arms and it was overwhelmingly warm and so, so real. He pressed his face against Jack's shoulder, drinking in the smell and feel of the fabric and Jack's hands pulling him in and holding him up. He could feel Everything; Jack's face pressed against his hair, breathing him in and feeling the air currents against their skin. Their shared skin; Bitty felt in that moment that he was one with Jack, sharing this experience completely, every feeling and thought and breath focused in on the reality of them holding each other, and they were the only thing to exist in the universe. 

**Everywhere Else**

Shitty's head shot up as if he had been electrocuted and his eyes widened. He looked at the people around him, all looking as shocked and struck as he did. "Holy shit, did you guys feel that?" 

"Yeah, this is- really weird. But also cute. But I feel like I'm kinda invading, y'know?" said Chris from where he had his arm around Caitlin, staring at Bitty and Jack, still wrapped up in each other.  
"I'm literally seeing like fireworks. Or feeling them," Adam said, raising an eyebrow.  
"This whole thing is kind of overwhelming," Will pointed out, looking slightly queasy. Derek elbowed him.  
"Dude, chill. This is the kind of shit that people write epic poems about. Souls meeting, and all that. We're part of an epiphany, enjoy it."  
"Don't tell me to chil-"

"Actually, I'm gonna give them some privacy," Lardo decided, interrupting the argument, standing up and walking away, waggling her fingers at the group. "Enjoy all the second-hand warm fuzzies without watching them cuddle, y'know."  
"Yeah, they're gonna be so sickeningly cute when they stop hugging," Ransom snickered, "And you don't want to see that, or what happens after." Holster grinned at him.  
"Bitty and Jack are gonna get Laid! And that's definitely gonna be the type of shit people write poems about."  
"Dirty poems!" The pair high-fived. 

"Psychic sex, the stuff of legends," Shitty mused, "It's gonna be weird having that going on in the back of my head.  
"Guys, stop grossing Chris and Will out and give the two some peace, let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said to myself at one point i'd finish this fic before the end of the year and guess what! I have the last few chapter drafts written and will upload them over the next couple of weeks! Admittedly I did nearly all of it in one 10 hour plane flight on the 30th December but I did it and the end is truly in sight! Thank you all for reading this and to the people who keep coming back despite my inability to update at a reasonable pace. Happy new year!


	11. Chapter 11

**Montreal**

Bitty was staring at the hockey jerseys lining the wall curiously when he heard a small gasp behind him. He spun around, seeing a short girl with cat-like glasses and dark hair tied back with a ribbon. She stared at him in shock. 

"You! You're alive!"  
"I'm sorry- I didn't know anyone else was here!" Bitty said quickly, reaching out to shake the girl's hand, "I'm Er-"  
"No!" the girl shouted interrupting him, "No names. It's never a good idea- you must be a pretty young cluster if you haven't learnt that. What's your cluster? How did you get away from LAX; you were going to be taken by them!"

"What?" Bitty stared at her in shock, "Who are you, how do you know about LAX? Wait-" he paused and glanced at the window near to where he was standing. Sure enough, he could only see his reflection in the glass. "Wait, you aren't really here are you? But," he concentrated but still felt firmly grounded in Montreal, "I can't see where you are?"

The girl sniffed and shook her head. "Sorry but I don't know you. I'm not showing you anything that could give you a clue to who I really am, or where I am. For all I know, LAX could be creating this false image in your brain to try and track my cluster down."

Bitty reached out, grasping the chair beside him and lowering himself down. "What are you talking about? My cluster? I've never seen anyone new before, how?"  
The girl walked over to the chair opposite and took a careful seat, looking around curiously. Then she tilted her head and looked carefully at Bitty. 

"This is the first time anyone in your cluster has connected with another sensate, isn't it? How long have you been awake- you know- seeing other people in your cluster? That's what we call the group we're born with and fundamentally connected to; 'we' being sensates; people who can connect to others on psychically." She grinned sheepishly, "Sorry. That's probably a lot to take in." Bitty nodded slowly, carefully reviewing her words, fingers still clutching the chair. 

"We- I've been part of a cluster for about six months?" The girl's eyebrows shot up. "The group LAX came after me- I don't know why. We think they got my hospital records, I had a blood test done and that somehow marked me as- as a sensate?"

The girl nodded. "Yeah, a sensate. That's how LAX often finds u, we've got to be careful." She saw Bitty's questioning look and sighed. "Cam's better at explaining this kind of thing and I've never been someone's first connection. LAX is a medical group set out to research and eliminate people like us. They're almost completely international, with a few exceptions. Laos, North Korea, countries without a stable government. They don't seem to operate in China, Tibet, or Nepal either though we think they're in Hong Kong and Macau. They tend to take us to a facility and well-" she swallowed, "Lobotomy that leaves you alive is the best word. They tell your family you had a rare brain tumour that needed operating, but they really just cut out the parts of your brain which help you understand and interact with the world."

"Oh my gosh," Bitty gasped, hand flying to his head automatically. The girl nodded.   
"Yeah. Best avoided. They also use you to try and connect and find out where other sensates are. That's why I didn't want to know your name; when we connect we use code names and block out information about where we are - just in case LAX gets someone to talk, they can't track down people outside their cluster." She gives a small, sad smile at Bitty's horrified expression. "You can call me Foxtrot, though."

"Bitty will work fine," he said unsteadily, "So- we 'connected?' What does that mean? How?"  
"It's like your cluster but the connection isn't as strong. I keep stuff from you, you know, and I'm not part of you in the same way they are. But we made eye contact; in person, in Vegas, I was visiting and walking down the street and I looked right at you. You scared and probably didn't feel it, but we formed a connection. I had to get away- I know what LAX does and I couldn't risk them noticing me somehow, I'm sorry. I assumed you were unconscious or dead, I tried to reach out but you weren't there. Until a few hours ago when I felt someone unfamiliar sends out a feeling- you kinda pulsed- and now-" she looked around, "You're here. Safe, I hope?"

"Yeah, Ja- I mean, my friend. In my cluster," Bitty began to explain, tripping over his words.   
"Clustermate," Foxtrot helpfully provided and Bitty nodded.   
"He sent someone he knew who got me away from LAX and then got me here. I'm safe as far as I know. But who are we? Why does LAX want us dead? What-"   
"One question at a time," Foxtrot said quickly, "Sorry. There's so much to explain, too much all at once." Bitty nodded an apology. 

"We're sensates. Or Homo sensoriums, or homo superior if you wanna sound like an X-men mutant. It is kind of like that; we're the next phase in human evolution, one that may have been happening for centuries, able to mentally connect with people at a glance. It's amazing, I know it might not seem like it straight away." Foxtrot looked sympathetically at Bitty. "I know you've been through a lot, but this is incredible. We are a network of knowledge, of experience; nothing is forgotten, we're better than social media and the internet. War and prejudice are impossible, oppression is over when everyone can be linked and experience other people on such a personal level. That's what it could be anyway."

"Why would they come after us then? Why LAX, why everywhere? Why does no one know?"  
"Cause people profit from war and hatred. The people on the top don't want the people on the bottom in their heads. And we're new and different and that terrifies people. We could get state secrets easily, we could conspire without evidence; there's no limit to our potential human existence. And evolution always has a loser." Foxtrot looked sadly at her hands, "It's not as violent as many people think; homo sapiens had children with Neanderthals but, well, eventually the human race as we know it would die out and that thought is terrifying enough."  
"Oh."  
"Yeah. It can be a lot to take in. Governments and scientists all over the world decided we were too dangerous; I'm sure some of them didn't know the whole truth, but just enough to scare them. So they create LAX to research us and then let it grow and try to eliminate us. They can't succeed; we're connected and inevitable but lots of people have been lost to them. It's imperative that-"

"Hey, Eric. You doing alright?" Alicia's voice came from behind him. Bitty jumped, turning to face her, smiling kindly in the doorway. He glanced back towards Foxtrot but she had gone, the connection between them fading for now. 

"I'm fine, Alicia," he gave her a warm smile, "Thank you for letting me stay at your home - it's really beautiful."  
Alicia laughed. "It was all interior designers, I've got no head for houses but thank you, it's a nice place to settle down." She nodded towards the empty space where Bitty had been staring moments before. "Were you talking to- uh-" she gestured towards her head, slightly awkwardly. Bitty blinked and nodded, surprised that she would bring up what he and Jack had explained to the pair. They had taken it rather well, once Jack and Bitty had demonstrated how they could talk even when in different rooms, and phoned up Shitty to show how far their connection stretched. 

"Yeah, I just learnt a lot," Bitty admitted, "I think I need to talk to Jack about some of it."  
Alicia smiled brightly. "Sure! I think he's - uh-" Bitty let his mind expand, seeing a flash of ice and a cool breeze. "-down by the lake," he said in unison with Alicia.

She blinked at him and then realisation spread across her face and she gave a small laugh and shook her head.   
"Of course. You can probably see him already." He could, grinning out at the lake, the wind tousling his hair as he clutched his camera and shouted something back at Bob, further up the garden. He turned, blue eyes flashing brilliantly in the winter sun and caught sight of Bitty. Jack smiled and Bitty stared, breathless, his heart beating heavily in his chest. Eventually, he found his voice and said, "I'll be there in a moment. I have news." Jack nodded, his smile fading slightly, and the scene faded, Bitty becoming suddenly aware of Alicia staring at him quizzically. 

"It's going to take a while for me to get used to you two doing that," she admitted sheepishly, stepping away from the door. Bitty raised an eyebrow. "Same here, if I'm honest."

As he began to walk away, Alicia held out a gentle hand to stop him. "Wait. Is Jack here?" It took Bitty a moment to understand what she was asking and he shook his head in response. "Good. Look, I know that this is bigger than the both of you and that you have no say in what happens with all this if everything you went through is any indication." She looked at Bitty with pity. "I just- He's handling this all so well, better than I could, and I really think that's because of you- maybe all of you- but it's clear that you mean a lot to him and that you… well, you rely on each other. You're a team, and he cares a lot about you. So I won't ask you to keep him safe but… if you can keep each other happy: try. Okay?"

Bitty swallowed around the lump in his throat. He knew how Jack made him feel, how alive and bright the connection between them was and how when he was physically in the room with Jack, the world seemed to vibrate. But it was different now, together; neither of them had mentioned the kiss in the back of a van that happened in Vegas but the ease had gone, replaced with a nervous intensity. They were two planets, orbiting each other and staring into the sky but never quite touching. But maybe- 

"Okay," Bitty agreed quietly and Alicia nodded and pulled him into a warm hug. Bitty closed his eyes and let her, mind jumping to another blonde woman, shorter and with a thick Georgian accent who had smelt like baking rather than perfume. He felt tears prick his eyes but he returned the embrace anyway.

 

**Brighton**

"Do you really think this is going to do anything?" asked Will grumpily, staring out at the sea. Derek shrugged as best he could whilst rowing. "You're out here on a boat which looks like its barely sea-worthy, rented from the weirdest guy, in the dark, heading to a ruin. And this isn't gonna make anything better?"   
"Chill," Nursey said through gritted teeth, arms working hard, "I'm just gonna have a look around. See if there is anything. If not, it's closure, I guess?"   
"It's a bad idea," Will said sulkily. Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, you don't need to be here."   
"You might drown if I go and that would be pathetic given the fact we have people hunting us down. I used to work on a lobster boat, you need me here to make sure your sorry ass doesn't die."  
"I can row, you know," Derek snapped back, "I'm on the college team. And we're pretty high up the rankings."  
Will scoffed. "Great. You can row on little canals in fancy-ass town. Welcome to the sea."  
"Oh just cause you think it's beneath you, doesn't mean-"

"Can you two shut up?" Justin said, suddenly sitting beside them in a white coat, "I'm trying to work but I'm catching irritable vibes all the way over here in Nigeria so stop. Be bros, like me and Adam."  
"Hell yeah, bro." Adam reached out and gave him a high-five before disappearing again, back to a family gathering in Germany.   
"How do you two even do that?" Will asked with amazement. Derek nodded silently beside him.   
"Eh, we embraced the connection and we're perfectly in sync. Also, we don't argue all the time like some people." He glared pointedly at the pair. "Try it some time. Oluransi out."

With that, Derek and Will found themselves alone again. They rolled their eyes at each other but kept silent as they approached the imposing silhouette of the Old Pier. As the drew closer, it became clearer in the dim evening light, reflections of lights from Brighton dancing on the waves.   
"It's not how I remembered it looking," Will admitted, staring up at the structure, "I only saw it once, for a moment but-"

Derek nodded in agreement. The image of the woman falling which they had all seen, white dress billowing around her and she plummeted past the burnt ruin into the sea below, was seared into his mind. He had no doubt that it was the same for Will. "There were storms. A lot of it fell into the sea." He rowed slightly further until the boat sat at the base of a charred, black pillar rising out of the sea and high above him. He pulled the oars in and let the boat float, gently rocking as he gazed up. 

"She would have fallen around here," he commented, squinting to see through the darkness.   
"This is just creepy and I don't feel anything," Will muttered, in annoyance, shivering as a breeze made goosebumps appear on Derek's arms, "And you're freezing. And being out here is illegal. There are no answers here; go check old records for bodies in the area or something just as morbid but less dangerous to you."   
"If she was like us, LAX might have covered her up," Derek muttered absently, still scanning the darkness, "Maybe they were the ones who killed her."

"I don't want to know," Will snapped, "This is a bad place; nothing good happened here so let's leave before we get caught up with that."  
Derek raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know you were superstitious. It used to be a pier where people had fun, remember."  
"Then it burnt down."  
"We happened here."  
Will paused, taken aback. "What?"  
Derek looked at him lazily. "We were- created or something. We all were connected here, in that moment. I got to meet you."  
Will snorted. "And that's a good thing?"

Derek laughed and grinned at Will, fondness clear in his expression. "Yeah, it's a good thing. I'm very glad I could make up someone as annoying as you."  
Will was silent for a long moment and the sea seemed very loud, lapping against the boat as faint music from the other pier travelled across the waves. Then he sighed.   
"Yeah," he agreed quietly, "It was lonely without you lot in my head. Having you around is- okay, I guess."

Derek gave a slight fist pump in celebration and leaned back, looking up at the sky. Will made a face at him. "You do seriously need to go back. This falls apart in the wind. It really isn't safe."  
"Awww, you're worried about me," Derek teased, earning a scowl.  
"I'd rather not know what it's like to be psychically connected to someone brained by a piece of pier," Will shot back and Derek rolled his eyes.  
"I'll go in five minutes. Just look up for a bit, you can see the stars properly out here, we're far enough from the light and it's pretty cool."

"Ugh, fine," Will agreed, leaning back with Derek and looking up. Their fingers brushed lightly, arms pressed against each other, and Derek gave a slow smile as Will asked pointedly, "Happy now?"  
"Yup, this is good." He nudged Will with his shoulder gently. Will shoulder-checked him back, making Derek laugh loudly as the boat rocked beneath him. 

"Five minutes though, or I'm calling the coast guard down here and telling them there's an idiot in a rowing boat by the pier cause he thinks it's pretty," Will warned, "They can't arrest me; I'm in your head."  
"Sure, sure. Just shut up for those five minutes and relax."  
"Fine."  
"Fine."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a big info dump cause I'm not as talented as the Wachowski's and I have limited time to expand and set up this universe and the rules.  
> I also planned this story before season 2 came out so now there is way more information about sensates, as well as stuff from season 1 that wasn't included, that wouldn't get a place in the story but I still wanted to nod towards. Also, the cluster knowing who and what they are, and what LAX really is, means that I can give these guys more of a satisfying conclusion which is coming up in the next few days! 
> 
> Also don't go sit under the [ruins of Brighton Pier](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/West_Pier#/media/File:Brighton_West_Pier,_England_-_Oct_2007.jpg). I've always wanted to as it looks very cool but it does literally fall apart more and more whenever it gets stormy and it's illegal and not safe.
> 
> Thank you all for reading and your comments and kudos mean a lot to me!! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Montreal**

Bitty blinked awake slowly, sunlight spilling across the room from the crack in the curtains. He sat up in the very comfortable bed and reached for his phone only to curse quietly when he remembered that he didn't have anything here. Alicia had promised to take him clothes shopping later so that he could wear something that fit him, though he promised to pay them back when he could get his things safely. He'd refused any offer of a phone, since, as Tony had confirmed in a call yesterday after a lot of yelling at Bitty for disappearing without a trace and no word of when he'd be back, he'd confirmed that the phone still worked fine where Bitty had dropped it when he was taken. 

He climbed out of his bed in one of the Zimmermann's several guest rooms and reached for the sweatpants and hoodie that Jack had lent him while his clothes were washed. The pants pooled around his ankles until he was forced to roll them up, and he looked ridiculous - they barely stayed up. He'd almost be better off wearing something of Alicia's but that would still be too tall for him. The dark hoodie also swamped him but it was warm and comforting and smelled faintly of Jack. 

He smiled thinking of Jack, reaching out with his mind to see if Jack was awake. The house was quiet but he could sense Jack, moving around downstairs. He walked towards the door upstairs and blinked as he let his mind drift downstairs. To his surprise, his mind opened up completely and he found himself watching as all eight of his clustermates sat around the kitchen table, talking- no- arguing quietly. 

"That's not something you can decide alone Jack," Lardo snapped, "We can be safe but hiding forever: he's not going to agree to that. And you have a career."  
"That doesn't matter right now," Jack said with a dismissive wave of his hand. Shitty made a noise of protest, but Jack ignored him and continued on, "Chris already said we can't get rid of records of him for sure, only damage the stuff in Lagos, and if LAX is as powerful as this Foxtrot says then it's too dangerous. Bitty has to hide. We can plan and fight back but he has to stay safe." 

Bitty made a surprised noise and the entire group looked up at him, standing both in the doorway and on the stairs on the way down.   
"Are you actually planning my future without me?" he said quietly, his voice brimming with barely-controlled anger. He clenched his fists and looked at the faces of his friends, none of who apart from Lardo, quite met his eyes. Chris gave him a small slightly, embarrassed smile and wave and Lardo looked at him, expression slightly smug. Jack's gaze caught on his for a moment and as he took the sight of Bitty in, he let out a breath as if shocked before glancing away quickly again.

"This was a bad idea," Adam muttered and Justin nodded silently beside him. Bitty glared at them pointedly; apart from Lardo who he had heard arguing, they were all complicit. Even so, he asked pointedly, "Who decided this? How is this fair? I'm part of all this- more than any of you really are!" 

He already knew the answer but it was confirmed as his friends stared awkwardly at the table, Shitty and Lardo's gazes sliding over to Jack. Bitty's throat clenched painfully at the betrayal. After a moment's silence, Jack looked up at him, blue eyes intense and mouth set in a stubborn line. 

"I did. You're tired and upset and too close to this," he said, his voice commanding and unusually cold, "I didn't want to worry you; you've been through enough, especially with this girl appearing."  
"I didn't want to, bro," Shitty admitted, "It didn't feel right but Jack insisted and-" he looked away bashfully, "I didn't want to argue. He is right; you have been through hell and back and then have all that stuff about LAX and sensate networks shoved on you. It was still a dick move. I'm sorry." The others murmured apologies and Lardo grimaced and nodded in agreement. Bitty sighed and ran a hand through his hair, still blinking sleep away from his eyes. He met Jack's steadfast gaze which clearly said that he wasn't sorry and his jaw clenched with anger. 

"The rest of you, just go. I can't deal with you right now," he snapped, cheeks hot and eyes pricking with barely stopped tears of anger and betrayal and heartbreak. This was between him and Jack. He glared at the taller man as their friends disappeared. "I'll be down in a moment," he spat out angrily. 

Then he was back on the staircase, knuckles white from clutching at the bannister. He let out a long breath as he let go, hands shaking slightly. For a moment he was tempted to turn around; to go back to bed and just cry - letting out all the tension from the past few days and blatantly ignoring Jack but then the anger returned, burning underneath his skin. He gritted his teeth and rushed down the stairs. He slammed the door open as he entered the kitchen where Jack was stood, alone, just as he had been moments before, his shoulders tense and hands clutching tight to the table. He looked up at Bitty's furious entrance, his face unusually blank. 

"How dare you?" Bitty spat out, voice filled with venom and his accent thicker than usual, "How could you be so condescending? Yes; I've been through a lot," he stumbled slightly over the words, choking on barely restrained tears which burnt his eyes, "But that doesn't mean you get to treat me like a child. LAX tried to take everything away from me; choice, independence, my thoughts and decisions, my life! How could you do the same?"

Jack flinched at that and Bitty had a moment to regret it as he stormed over, but Jack's jaw clenched. "It was for your own good. I was trying to keep you safe."  
Bitty laughed wildly, gesticulating with his hands as he stared up at Jack, close enough to feel the heat from the larger man's body and to smell his cologne, to see the flush on his cheeks and the lines of tension in his expression. 

"Can you even hear yourself right now? You sound ridiculous!" He jabbed at Jack's chest as he spoke, punctuating each word, glaring angrily up at Jack and hoping he couldn't see that Bitty's eyes were wet with tears. "You can't keep me safe by excluding me from the conversation! I'm part of this - not letting me think for myself is just as dangerous."  
"I was trying to keep you safe," Jack repeated and Bitty scowled.   
"Is that all you can say?" he snapped, clenching his fists and trying to ignore a hot tear spilling from the corner of his eye. "You were the one who told me we were a team! Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

Jack's breath caught in his throat. He closed his eyes for a moment and Bitty could suddenly see the upset in his expression, beneath the stubborn, stony mask.   
"Yes," Jack said, voice tense and wavering, "That's all I can say. Cause we are a team but I let you down. I didn't watch your back enough and you nearly got killed."  
"Jack," said Bitty, voice softening and his hand dropping to his side. Jack shook his head, eyes still closed. 

"You nearly died," he repeated, "And- and you kissed me and all I could think was that I'd rather die than lose you in that moment but I was sure I was going to."  
"You saved my life-" Bitty began, but Jack's eyes flew open, glassy and wild - all control leaving his face.  
"You were acting like you were about to die, and I thought I'd never get the chance to actually see you-" his voice cracked slightly, "-I thought I'd never get the chance to hold you or see your face and I couldn't deal with that. And then you were gone. And- it was like this massive hole was there where you were supposed to be. I couldn't feel if you were dead or alive and I felt empty like colour had drained out of everything, I felt so alone! I can't do that again, Bits," he looked at Bitty pleadingly, "I can't. I-I need to make sure you're alright. Even if you don't want me there- if it was all heat of the moment- I need to live in a world where you are alive and safe and happy and… and loved. You deserve to be loved so much. You already are." 

Bitty shook his head, aware that he was crying freely now but he couldn't bring himself to care. "You're an idiot, Jack Zimmermann," he said, reaching out to cup Jack's face, "If you ever think that I'm leaving your side again."

He leant up and kissed Jack, hands resting on his shoulders, lips hot and face wet with tears. Jack immediately moved to pull him closer, winding an arm around Bitty's waist as he almost desperately pressed his lips against Bitty's. The world didn't shift like before, instead, it went quiet, silencing the ringing in Bitty's head as he sighed against Jack's mouth, eyelashes fluttering against the other man's cheekbones. The world was silent; falling into place and for a moment they were the only two people to exist, lost in each other.


	13. Epilogue

**Lagos**

"So, I just press that button and it's done?" Justin asked, and Chris nodded beside him.   
"Yup. Computers in this room are on a closed circuit so they'll be wiped and trashed by the virus but the hospital systems won't get affected."  
"Honestly, this whole heist business is so cool," Lardo said from the corner of the darkened room, watching the pair working. "Lights off, cameras down, computers wiped."  
"I know! It's great!" Chris agreed and Justin made a face which said otherwise as he pressed the button. 

"LAX will have copies somewhere, but all this equipment and any research they haven't sent off will be gone, and the virus will spread to any connected systems by wifi. If we're lucky it might slow them down, otherwise, it will definitely annoy them. This seems to be a pretty central lab, based on probably-LAX-shell-corporations that Caitlin could find. All the others are basically just creepy warehouses without the power supplies that say research," Chris repeated cheerfully as Justin tugged nervously at the gloves as he made his way out of the independent lab and back down to the main floors of the hospital. He sat down at his nightshift desk and exhaled, pulling out the book and recreating the position that the camera loop had him in. 

"Yeah, well anything is good and we can do more when we know more," he said quietly, just in case any of the inpatients were awake in the nearby rooms. "When do the systems come back online?"  
"Only five more minutes," Chris promised, "It just looks like a power fluctuation blew non-emergency systems like lights, don't stress."  
"They'll still come looking when they notice their computers are gone."   
"And footage shows you reading here, which the nurses can say they saw you doing. And you have tickets to Germany from Adam if you feel like they're getting too close. You're good."   
"Yeah," Justin breathed out, shoving the USB stick with the virus back into his pocket and promising internally to burn it later. Just in case. He waved as Anna wandered past, a minute early on her rotations. She waved back through the darkness and muttered something about stupid power cuts. Justin laughed tensely and watched as she walked away. 

"Hey," Adam said, appearing by his desk, "You did a cool thing today. You were in a literal heist with a virus and all. It's like Independence Day or something." He held out his hand for a fist pump and Justin felt his shoulders relax as he returned it, letting himself smile despite the tension pulsing through his muscles.  
"Yeah, it was cool. Just more terrifying than the movies make out, ch'know? I don't think I'm cut out to be an action star."  
"Well, we can't all be me," Adam teased, and Justin punched him lightly, making him laugh. They lapsed into comfortable silence, machines whirring quietly in the background. The lights came back with a buzz, casting the room in fluorescent brightness.

"I just keep thinking," Justin began, looking down at his book to hide his lips as he talked, "What happens now? You know, Bitty nearly died and now he's fine and we know so much more. What do we do? What can we do?"

Adam sighed, biting his lip. "Dude, I don't know the answer to that. We just live, I guess. Watch each other's backs and just keep on living. But together now, so it's better."  
Justin nodded slightly and smiled. "Yeah man, we're a team. Keeping on living sounds like a damn good idea."

 

**Montreal**

"What do we do now?" Bitty asked with a sigh, leaning back against Jack where they sat on the bed. Jack pressed a light kiss to the back of his neck, drawing a soft smile from Bitty.  
"I don't know - I thought you wanted to decide what was going to happen," Jack teased and Bitty elbowed him gently, looking at the afternoon light on the trees outside his window.   
"Don't joke, Mister Zimmermann. I'm still mad." The way he ran his hand through Jack's dark hair said otherwise, tousling it. Jack smiled against his skin. "I'm sure I can make it up to you somehow, thumbs rubbing affectionate circles against Bitty's hip. 

Bitty sighed and shifted to face Jack, still almost in his lap, his side pressed close to Jack's chest. He looked up at Jack and raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious. What happens next?"   
Jack sighed, absent-mindedly reaching up to brush a stray curl away from Bitty's forehead.   
"I don't know," he admitted quietly, "I do think we should lie low for a bit, to be safe. Maybe we can learn more, eventually figure out a way to avoid or stop LAX." He paused and then said steadily, "All I know for sure is that whatever happens next I want to be with you. Not just in our heads, but by your side for all of it - good or bad." 

Bitty took a sharp breath and then leant up to kiss Jack, gentle and slow, revelling in the moment. After a while, he drew away.   
"That sounds good," he agreed quietly, tangling with fingers with Jack and staring down at their clasped hands, "In sickness and in health." Bitty felt Jack's heart beat faster as Jack kissed his temple, the unspoken promise heavy and burning between them. 

After a long, languid moment of holding each other, Jack asked, "What about you?"  
Bitty shrugged. "The same, mostly. To figure out what we really are, to figure out how to be safe." He was quiet for a moment, "I'd like to call my parents, I think. It's been a long time and we left- a lot unsaid and I ran away from actually saying it. But," he sighed and gave a bitter smile, "Nearly dying makes you want to reach out to people and create something."  
Jack's arms tightened around him. "Don't say that." 

Bitty pressed his fingers to Jack's cheek in an unspoken apology. "It put things into perspective though. You know, not wanting to just survive but to properly live. I think, as a team, we can do it."  
"Properly live," Jack mused, chuckling, "That would really stick it to LAX, wouldn't it?" He paused, "I like it though. Let's live." 

They fell into silence, holding each other close and watching as the golden afternoon light turned to dusk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, the final chapter; filled with cheesy fluff cause endings are hard. Especially when you've been working on this for so long and it's actually kind of emotional to post the last chapter (I mean, I've been working on this while I applied to uni, did my exams, moved house, started uni; it's been in my head a lot and it's weird to know its done).
> 
> But thank you all so much for reading and leaving kudos and comments, it means a lot to me and they kept me going even when things were busy. I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I've done writing it! Thank you!!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is definitely coming from my childhood as an expat and it is in many ways a love letter to some of the places I grew up. 
> 
> The Team:  
> \- Eric 'Bitty' Bittle: grew up in Georgia and living in New Orleans, USA  
> \- Jack Zimmermann: grew up in Canada, living in Providence, USA  
> \- B 'Shitty' Knight: grew up in New Zealand and living in Bangalore, India  
> \- Larissa Duan: living in Ho Chi Min City, Vietnam  
> \- Derek Nurse: grew up in Brighton, studying at Cambridge, UK  
> \- William Pointdexter: grew up in Maine, living in Los Angeles, USA  
> \- Chris Chow: living in Hong Kong  
> \- Justin Oluransi: living in Lagos, Nigeria  
> \- Adam Birkenholtz: living in Berlin, Germany


End file.
